


It shouldn't have been her

by thefallenmutineer



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Episode: s01e02 Battle at the Binary Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefallenmutineer/pseuds/thefallenmutineer
Summary: What if it had been Micheal that had been stabbed by T'Kuvma....





	1. Death of a Mutineer

Michael stood on the front pad on the right of Georgiou, staring ahead as Saru and the other transport officer, hazily listening as they confirmed no weapons firing or powering up and shields were down; meaning that the head of the ship had decapitated from the rest of the ship. With the ship disabled, then they were floating in the water. Perfect for this. Causalities no doubt in the blast would have meant less to confront... But Micheal didn't have a good feeling on this mission, but with little alternatives, one where Georgiou didn't have to sacrifice herself, then she'd take any option. 

They were ready.

“I’ll beam you two down to an area with minimal Klingon life signs” Michael felt Georgiou’s glance but she couldn’t look at her. Not now and not with that she had done. The shame heavy but she had to get onto mission. To try and end this war before it started.

Taking a breath, Michael raised her phaser ready, Captain Georgiou doing the same.

“Energize” the captain spoke.

Gold light engulfed their vision, the familiar sensations running through her body, like floating in a water-less ocean, tingles forming before she felt solid ground; her sight clearing to see the inside of the ship coming into view; dark and ornamented, it was a fascinating sight but Michael kept her mind to task, looking around to see if they were clear;

Immediately, she saw two Klingon's turn and fired two stun shots, one missing but the other hit their target, Georgiou doing the same; bringing down the one she missed but that was it. Michael breath was fast and she could feel her heart flutter, taking the lead up the grand staircase with quiet steps, keeping her senses out. There could be any of them hiding.... the dark lights make it hard to pick out the Klingon to the ship shadows. They were at a bad advantage here... 

“This is the aft section of the bridge, T’Kuvma must be close.” Michael spoke out, she could recognise the area with ease and took a right turn in front of Georgiou's path who took the left side with little hesitation; they’d circle out. Michael stole a glance to her left to see Georgiou on the other side of an ornamental stand, receiving a firm nod to keep moving so she did.

In her vision, something moved, Michael turned and shot at the Klingon, bring it down but immediately she heard a roar of anger, her head turning just in time to see a pale Klingon fling himself at Georgiou and tackled her down. Her heart leaped but she barely had time to do anything before she saw the shape of another Klingon; T’Kuvma before her weapon was knocked away. Michael let out a sharp grunt but pushed herself up, hearing the sharp sounds of Georgiou as a Klingon grabbed her by the head but Micheal couldn't focus on her captain now. By instinct, she reacted and  flung herself forwards, grabbing a broken pipe and swung at the Klingon.

Offering her leverage for closer combat, defecting his hits now of the knife. Dodging each death blow and kicking him back. They needed to get out of here... she couldn't keep this up for long. Her body wasn't as durable as a Klingon. 

 

The mutineer didn’t know how long this had gone on for and her body screamed in exhaustion in fighting but the adrenaline kept her going as she steadily made her away up the staircase of the ship, her body aching with the hits and hard surfaces she had knocked into and jump over. Just managing to hold her ground as he swung the weapon again, the pipe in her hand vibrating with ti's hit, the sound of metal clanging, but it kept holding the knife on the bar forcing all her body strength into keeping it away from her head and with a surge of energy,  Micheal pushed him back with a sharp cry, deflecting a quick second stab and kicked him back and slammed her heel into his knee which buckled.

T’Kuvma growled in pain, falling to his knees. Michael swung the pipe again. A hit this close and hard would be enough to render him unconscious; enough time for them to leave with him and get him into the Brig, or at least what was left.

Suddenly he moved, knocking her back, his hand suddenly grabbing hers and twisted. A sharp sound left Michael’s lips before she knew it, pain searing down her arm, twisting her shoulder where she heard it pop from the socket and the pain travelled deeper into her body, unable to stop the look of bewilderment on her face at the surprise...

Everything then looked to be in slow motion in the following second that even the pain seemed to momentarily vanish…. T’kuvma’s free arm rose, his two handled knife slicing through the air and sunk into her vest, like a knife in butter… carrying on unhampered as it pierced through into her chest…. The coldness of the blade kicking in before the pain. The whole sudden gesture left a sharp gasp leave her lips but she couldn’t cry out, hot blood suddenly seemed to fill her mouth, the coldness of the blade seemed to sap all her energy.

Michael barely saw T’Kuvma scream out as she fell backwards like a dropped rag-doll, unable to move… the dark edges of her vision got darker and the taste of blood settled in the back of her throat but she couldn’t cough it up… her lungs feeling disconnected and she could feel her body panicking in the seconds after…

But yet, the moment around her seemed to stretch for longer, a coldness setting in at her feet, spreading up and she could feel her heart slowing… the knife… it had just missed her heart but the damage was fatal. She could feel it… she was dying. Medical wouldn’t save her by the time they’d get back… too late for her… Not that it mattered. Her life was over even if she had survived... but now… she could go to her parents…

**_"Michael!”_ **

Captain Georgiou…

Relief followed… she was still alive… that was good…better than her dying… she deserved it for what she did… Georgiou didn’t… she’d live on…get over her soon. She had stabbed her in the back, now this was her own price to pay for it. Georgiou would be fine without her.

Above her,  ceiling got darker but she couldn’t close her eyes, Georgiou’s cries of her name echoing in her mind… listening to her voice… as the dark closing in around her; but she didn’t fight it any longer; allowing it to wrap around her soul and mind to pull her under its merciful grip.

A soft curl of her lips echoing on Michael’s face before her body slacked, her brown eyes dulling to a lifeless husk; Georgiou’s running frame inches away before the Transporter gold’s light swallowed the Captain up and leaving her body in the derelict ship.


	2. Afternath

Philippa’s heart hammered, her head hurt but she knew for a fact she had some fractures radiating through her skull from the grip of the pale Klingon that had grabbed her skull… but all that didn’t matter, fighting the pain and the haze to find Michael… to get out of here to live and fight another day.

Her eyes sought the movement and found it on the bridge yet even she could tell Michael was fighting a lost battle… her heart leapt in her chest as her arm was twisted; the crack echoing but the knife suddenly plunging into Michael’s chest made her scream out “ _NO_!”.

“Michael!” At once the Phaser in her hand rose, its lights red; set to kill and fired. It hit T’Kuvma in the back, searing through but she forced her body to move but it felt like she was running on quick sand.

“Captain, I’ve lost Burnham’s life signs.” Saru informed with urgency

“Saru, get us out of here.”

“I can’t transport Burnham without a life sign”

“Wait, I’m _not_ leaving her here!”

Her legs pumped faster up the stairs and her heart sung in her chest… seeing Michael’s body lying there, the knife sunk to its handle in her chest with blood pooled around it, her stare open but glazed; a clear indication she was gone.

“Michael!” She called out, hopping to arouse anything in her First officer; meters from her, the light around her turned gold, her arm shooting out towards her .“No!” but Michael’s body dissolved out of her vision clouded for a second before the solid floor in front of her material…. But no Michael…

For a moment, Philippa couldn’t breathe, her mind not caught up with reality but the image was in her head… and the fact that Michael wasn’t here… the transporter pads around her were empty; as often as a sudden guest was; they’d be transported to a different pad but… they were all empty.

Her breath came out sharp.

“Captain…” Saru’s voice barely registered but her vision was blinded as she felt the hot tears fill them… Michael was gone... the tears spilling down her cheeks as the ragged sobs finally echoed from her chest. Solid cool glass of the pads meeting her hands as she fell forwards as the ship shook.

“Captain, we have to go.” Saru’s vice was soft but this time, Philippa heard it and pushed herself up.

“I SAID I WASN’T LEAVING HER BEHIND!” Philippa’s voice was much louder in her hot flash of rage, starting the Kelpien to the point of his ganglia flashing out but that mattered little. “YOU SHOULD HAVE WAITED FOR MY ORDERS!”

Saru looked to be very shocked, as well the second transport technician but she could feel her throat thicken as she felt her emotions threaten to boil up more, but alarms buzzed and she could hear the evacuations starting but she felt it all through a filter…Yes, they had to leave… but Michael should be leaving with them…

She clenched her jaw together, ignoring the pain in her head but she couldn’t look at the Kelpien, storming from the transporter room and out into the evacuating corridor; feeling on auto as she strapped herself into a shuttle seat, the auto systems taking over and they ascended out and Philippa let her gaze watch out the window for the moment she had to see both ships, Shenzhou and the Klingon’s before they were gone, leaving them behind… leaving Michael behind and she knew for a moment, a part of herself had been left behind..

* * *

 

The memory of the events replayed over and over in the travel to the closest Star base. Hazily going through the medical procedures as they fixed up the cracks in her skull and the aches of her fight with the Klingon but she knew she had been put onto Medical leave at a star base.

The news of Michael Burnham’s death has spread fast, whispers of it echoed around her. It made her blood boil when someone had said it was _karma_. Philippa was unable to stop herself from enforcing a disciplinary, a harsh one, onto that officer; taking everything in her power to not physically assault him on bad-mouthing her deceased first officer. The emotional wounds felt deep, and sharp.

Her eyes following the movements of the officer that lead her to her room, the reality of her word returning as the door opened and she stepped through. It was a standard room for a Star base; and for a captain, big enough for a room, on suit bathroom, a replicator and a ready-room space.

Philippa blinked in mild surprise as she observed the pile of personal artefacts of hers… no doubt taken from her Ready room at the Shenzhou. Everything she had; PADDs, puppets, her telescope, books… all of it had made the trip back. On Saru’s orders no doubt… prepared for the evacuation.

The captain walked straight passed it towards the huge double bed, her fingers coming up to her protective vest and steadily unzipped it but her memory went back…

_Michael’s arm was twisted sharply, then the knife descended and cut straight through the protective vest, a sharp gasp leaving the woman’s lips; a momentary look of bewilderment in her face…_

Philippa closed her eyes, feeling the hot fresh tears sting at them. These vests weren’t able to protect them… didn’t do a good enough job. Too weak against a Klingon blade. They might as well have walked on their in just their uniform. She let it drop off her shoulders to the floor… as she hollowly found herself seating herself down onto the soft mattress but barely noticed it’s softness under her fingertips.

As she sat there, the ache in her chest seemed to worsen but there was nothing she could do to sooth the raw edges of it, it coiled around her heart like a serpent and sat within her stomach. She had been through this before… she had seen battle and war and had lost so much… but Michael… this had been different. Michael had been close… special. She found someone she could rely on, build up to be more, to be a captain, to follow her own footsteps for a greater path. That had been Michael’s path.

Then Michael turned _against_ her. That hurt but Philippa would take that the betrayal over and over again gladly… _just_ to keep her alive. It hadn’t escaped her though that Michael had volunteered to take her place in that workerbee to deliver that warhead. _Asking_ her to die. The desire to make up for what she did; that should have been her warning bells to make her sit it out. Michael _wanted_ to die for the cause… _for_ _her_.

A soft sob left her lips, the hot thick tears finally streaking down her cheeks, dripping down into her blue uniform.

_It shouldn’t have been her._

Philippa lent forwards, putting her face into her hands, allowing her body to finally crumble with the grief and the exhaustion of it all, physically and emotionally. Her body shook as she cried, the ache of it spreading through her chest and felt tight in her lungs that made even breathing difficult…

 

* * *

 

Time blurred and became relative, Philippa felt hollow as her tears dried up and the crying stopped. However sleep didn’t seem to help but the call for duty was always quick to follow; the after-reports were required. She hadn’t touched them, despite the necessity of it. She knew Saru’s reports would hound off the top-admirals for the time being.

Philippa hadn’t left her room and nor did she allow visitors, despite 3 attempts. Saru twice and a medical officer; she had the computer turn them away. It was not productive and she knew there was a lot of people now, just like her, grieving…and doing a better job despite it. Knowing that also didn’t help.

She sat at her head board, dressed down in her maroon long sleeve shirt and shorts; standard Starfleet bed wear and her hair was hung down limply with some grease since she hadn’t showered recently.

The door pinged again, indicating the request for entry.

“No.” Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her throat sore and thick.

But the door didn’t obey, instead it opened though she simply watched, her mind focused sharply to see Admiral Cornwell entering her quarters. Immediately, she pushed herself out the bed and onto her feet though swayed with the sudden movement.

“I expected better of you, Captain Georgiou.” Cornwell spoke, getting to the point though she stopped short of her bed space, her face calculating though concern lingered in her eyes

Philippa’s arms folded. “I’ll get to the reports.”

“Not what I’m on about, Philippa.” Cornwell sighed deeply, loosening her formal posture. “At least, not the majorly. We still don’t know what happened on that Klingon ship but Saru informed us of _Former_ Commander Burnham’s death.”

Philippa’s jaw flexed as the Admiral brought _her_ up. Flaring the internal pain in her chest.

“What else did he say?”  Her tone much cooler.

“Commander Burnham Committed mutiny in an attempt to fire upon the Klingons first and she was stripped of her position and committed to the brig until it was compromised by the battle. You two went on board to capture T’Kuvma in hopes to change the tide of War.” A tone lingered in the Admiral’s voice, enough to indicate her displeasure.

“It was a solid plan, to prevent more death.”

Admiral Cornwell scoffed lightly. “It was a _suicide_ mission. Either one of your plans were.” Cornwell moved back though Philippa knew to move forwards to sit at her desk, Cornwell taking a seat on the other side.

“I know you were close, and I respect your time to grieve for her. But we’re at war now and we have to multi-task.”

“You’re putting me onto a new ship?” The _implication_ was clear.

“Not yet. There’s a new star ship, USS Discovery that’s yet to get a captain and crew. It’ll be up and running in 6 weeks and its design is… unique. I want to put you onto it.”

Philippa said nothing but she could see the logic and reasoning she had. There had been no mention of her plans to retire from Starfleet nor could she bring herself to now. _Now_ wasn’t the time for that…

“I’ll think about it.”

Cornwall nodded. “In that time, you can deal with your grief and get a crew together. You should also get into contact with Ambassador Sarek. He’s been insisting on talking to you. No doubt on the topic of Burnham and how to proceed with her funeral.”

“I wasn’t able to get her body.” Her voice cracked a little as spoke. Philippa felt the woman’s gaze as she spoke, the calculating look but couldn’t bring herself to look at her. “I was _so_ close.”

“You didn’t have the time. I know that her body would have brought closure to you and the crew of the Shenzhou.” Admiral Cornwell spoke. “but you’ll still need to discuss this was Sarek and his wife. Vulcan funeral customs may vary. Starfleet can offer honour of service to the crew of everyone fallen in the line of duty. I’m sure you can arrange that.”

Philippa didn’t answer but nodded.

“Now, since we’re at war we’ll need to discuss projects that’ll occur. Discovery is a science vessel and its design is specific to a drive. Until you accept full captaincy, I cannot go into details.”

“Will Discovery be on the front lines?”

“Not yet. It’s still early days.”

Philippa sighed deeply, her hand coming to rub at her temple, feeling a familiar pain of a headache.

“I’ll expect your answer in the next 2 weeks or I’ll find someone else. Clean yourself up, eat and talk to Saru... He’s been wanting to talk to you for the past 3 days.” Admiral Cornwell spoke, raising to her feet. “believe me when I say this, I am sorry for your loss. Truly, Philippa.”  She reached forwards, placing a soft hand on her shoulder.

Philippa nodded. She knew her sincerity was unquestionable. “Thank you, Kat.” Cornwell offered her a small smile though Philippa watched her take her leave through the door, which shut sharply after her. Allowing the moment to take a deep breath and exhale it deeply out but despite the orders, there was something gained from her visit. A clearer future to see and motivation. She _had_ to carry on because there was too much work to do.

 

* * *

 

Philippa took her time in getting showered and dressed, cleaning away the dirt, grime and lingering blood. She kept her hair down though as she pulled on her newly replicated uniform, her finger’s fiddling with her Starfleet badge as she placed that back on her chest though soon enough found herself walk through the Star base’s corridors in search of a mess hall, she needed to eat and while she enjoyed the privacy, Admiral Cornwell was right, she did have to talk to Saru. She hadn’t spoken to him since he had pulled her out the ship… it made her wonder what he was doing now in the blur of days.

The mess hall was half full but the air in the Mess Hall was just as quiet, solemn as the rest with very little chatter. No one paid her heed as she got a tea from the replicator and sat down but she couldn’t find the appetite for anything more than that. Her hands wrapped around the hot ceramic surface of the mug and she gently sipped, stirring the tea bag after placing it down to make it stronger in taste.

Yet there was that sour taste in her palette that she couldn’t swallow down and it had nothing to do with the tea. The next 6 weeks wasn’t going to be easy and walking it… she had to be focused. She’d do what she could for Michael’s family. There was nothing else she could do now other than that.

“Captain?” The familiar voice drew her attention to the side, her eyes turning to see Saru hovering with a small tray. She didn’t smile though inclined him to take a seat to his unasked request to sit.  The Kelpien did, placing his tray down and sat in the opposite her.

Philippa kept her gaze down to her tea. She couldn’t find the words to speak to him… she knew his logic in pulling her out. She could understand it perfectly. But at the same time, a single second could have ensured her grip on Burnham’s body, a second to bring her home…

“I’m.. so sorry, Captain.” Saru started. “I know you’re upset with me and I do believe that does have some justice to it.”

“You did what you had to do, Commander Saru.” Philippa spoke, her voice quiet in both volume and tone. “I’m sure I would have done the same.”

“Still, I may have been rash. I didn’t listen to your orders.”

Philippa brought the cup to her lips again, feeling the burn of it immediately in her gulp but the pain felt good.

“I could say that I wish we had a better plan, Saru. But ‘ _what ifs_ ’ won’t turn the events of time… or bring her back.” She pulled the tea bag out and placed it onto the saucer. “I’ve already gone through those.”

The what ifs had plagued her mind for a while; what if it had been her to take the blade instead of Michael, what if she had taken the warhead into the worker bee and die in honour as it detonated the ship, what if Michael had never tried to take command, what if she had recognised Michael was going to do something…

What Michael had done, it hadn’t been _her_ fault; she couldn’t find a strong enough rational reason to blame herself for the mess. She _could_ though blame herself for allowing Michael to convince her to go on board. She allowed her to get into her mind… the remorse her former officer had was easy to see and she should have said something… or get more crew to come with them. A two-man team was the worst idea they could have had. 4 at the least could have evened the odds. Michael was no match against a Klingon and they already knew that.

She shouldn’t have allowed her to bring her along either. The feelings, the request to take her place on that worker-bee… did Michael want to redeem herself through a suicide mission? She hadn’t _never_ thought to peg her under the suicidal risk-factor; she had never displayed such behaviour before that day. Did that feeling of guilt _push_ her?

“I’ve finished my after reports, I’ve only submitted the basic one for now but they’ll be waiting for my full in depth report later today.” Saru’s voice pulled her out her thoughts again.

“You want to check how my reports are going?”

“It won’t hurt to synchronise the facts. I’d hate to…tarnish anything.”

“Tell the truth, Commander, no matter how ugly it is. _She’s_ not Starfleet’s concern anymore.” Her throat tightened as she spoke but she didn’t want to make it look like they were anything up. Michael, despite her death, had committed a series of crimes before her death. It had to be noted down. There had to be a sating reason to why this war even started.

Her own anger was still there, but Philippa knew it’d come through once the emotion pain wavered; she’d get there sooner or later.

“I’ll be in contact with Ambassador Sarek in a few hours, no doubt to talk about how to proceed with her funeral… or _memorial_ in this case.”

Saru nodded. “Of course.”

“Will you be staying at this base?”

“Likely, Captain. Most of the crew will be around but those willing are no doubt to be reassigned. Detmer suffered a eye and head injury so she’s currently on medical leave and adjusting to new augments to she retain her pilot’s position.”

“I’ve been offered a new captain’s position for a new star ship. I haven’t given my answer yet but… I remain uncertain on taking command so soon after Shenzhou…”

“You are always a good captain, Captain.” Saru complimented without hesitation, “You made the calls necessary and did what you thought was best.”

“Now at the expense of the ship and Michael.”

Saru didn’t answered though he fiddled with his cutlery. “It was _her choice_ , Captain. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

“Grief and guilt like to make us feel like it is. But I must say, despite the wrong Burnham did, she did what she could. This War might be considered her fault, but I believe this would have with or without her. Any other star ship would have investigated; results would have been the same.”

“Hm, you gave your opinion to leave it alone. Maybe I should have listened then.” She knew she was back tracking into the ‘what ifs’ again so she took a deep breath. “Excuse me, Commander Saru. I need to start on my reports.”

Saru nodded though Philippa left her half-drunk tea at the table, still feeling conflicted on the whole matter at hand.


	3. Funeral

The reports had been hard to write and she had to stick to the facts but she kept some lenience in writing on Michael’s betrayal; the reasoning and adding her Vulcan input. It’d do little to pass the hard-hearten admiral’s that read the reports and she knew they were going to use Michael as their scapegoat even before she had finished it. The logic was clear to see before she would sent them off but Philippa didn’t bring herself to put on the news.

It didn’t make her feel good.

To some degree, it did feel like she was wronging her deceased former First officer… Michael’s reputation would be torn down; everything she achieved in her time in Starfleet would be in the shadow of her last day; didn’t matter she was raised on Vulcan and was the only human to tend the Vulcan Learning centre; didn’t matter she had served under her for 7 years; only that would be known was the mutiny and the starter of this war. Starfleet didn’t mind erasing the history to the cause and slant it all against a woman who was _deceased_. Yet, lying on this report would be found out by the reports of everyone else who had submitted theirs already, so another reason she had to stick to the truth, it could affect her getting the new command if she did want the position.

Philippa’s fingers hesitated on sending the report but she forced herself to press her finger onto the smooth surface of the PADD and watched as it sent out. Letting out a deep breath, Philippa allowed it to be placed down onto the cool table surface, a soft shake in her hands but she clenched them together tightly.

Another day. She could wait those feelings out another day. There was work to do in the now… Philippa inhaled deeply though her PADD gave a ding, indicating a call was awaiting on her Holo-communicator. She closed her eyes a moment. Sarek. Of course he’d call; he had no doubt just picked up the report.

Her arm curved and gently pressed her fingers onto the screen, taking the call and rose to her feet as the image of the Vulcan appeared in front of her. His face passive and emotionless though she couldn’t help but note the slight stiff posture and the stony look in his eyes. As emotionless as the Vulcan’s went, loss was still felt.

“Captain Georgiou.” He greeted, his voice the same tone as he always did.

“Ambassador Sarek.” She greeted back, unable to hold back the low note in her voice as she spoke.

“In light of the recent events concerning Michael Burnham, I have been wishing to talk to you since your return to the Star base.”

“I am aware, I apologise for the delay.”

Sarek nodded simply. “I am aware of your grief, Captain Georgiou. My wife, Amanda has also been going through such experiences. But The High Vulcan Council will not agree with a memorial service on Vulcan and I am unable to convince them otherwise. This new War had put the blame onto her shoulders and the Council do not wish to have that reputation linked back to Vulcan.”

“But you want a service on Vulcan?”

“I do. But that I can do privately with my wife but no others. Grief is… handled much more privately on Vulcan than the Human traditions. While it is unfortunate that there is no body to bury, your safe return is what was important.”

Philippa shook her head. His implication was clear he knew her feelings on leaving Michael behind, the regret of it…

“I know my daughter, as you knew your first officer. She would not be upset with the loss of her body if on the expense of you.”

“Michael deserved to come home and rest on Earth…or Vulcan. God knows what they’ll do to her.”

“She is _dead_ , Captain. She’s gone. She _cannot_ suffer any longer.” Sarek moved in his spot, the hologram glitching closer. “Funerals… _memorials_. They aren’t for the dead. They’re for the _living_.” He looked at her carefully though his eyes were less stony, “Do not be ashamed to have survived, Captain. By all indications, she sacrificed herself for the sake of the crew; for starfleet and _for you_ in the attempted to right her wrong.”

Philippa could feel the hot burning in her eyes but she fought it back, swallowing thickly and let out a soft but shaky sigh. “It doesn’t make it right.”

“Perhaps not, but it has happened and we can’t turn back time.” He straightened up, getting back to a less emotional topic. “I know on Earth, with no body, they can still bury a casket. Amanda won’t be able to do much more on terms of Vulcan but she desires to work with you on an Earth funeral. _My_ attendants is in question but there is the case of the public nature of her memorial.”

“It won’t be public.”

“That… may be difficult to conceal. The blame is shifted onto Michael so there will be those less forgiving that may not agree with such an event to be kept quiet.”

“Then we do one privately on the star base. Send a casket pod for a space funeral and have a place dedicated to Michael both on Vulcan and Earth. Discreetly.”

Sarek considered her words. “I will keep that in consideration.” He paced around after a second, deliberation in his face that lingered for another second. “Now, I have also heard the request of a new ship to be under your command, Captain.”

“I’m uncertain I’ll take it, Sarek. There’s a lot we have to do… what _I_ have to do…” Personally.

“Indeed. But I offer you my advice Captain, that taking a new position would not be a bad choice to accept. Starfleet has suffered losses and despite _your_ losses, a new command may be beneficial to help go against the Klingons. You have much more experience than any other captain. My Council to Michael prior to her death may not have been effecting in _this_ battle but perhaps in your next.”

Philippa knew that Michael’s idea to fire hadn’t been her own; she’d have to get the advice from someone else. Sarek wasn’t the blame on her mutiny… she still chose to act on it. Klingons still fired first. Maybe Michael was right… but how could they have foreseen the events that transpired?

“I’ll take what you say as advice. I’m sure you’ll be informed either way.” Philippa answered tightly.

Sarek inclined his head to a single nod of acknowledgement. He moved to stand in front of her, raising his hand to the familiar Vulcan salute, “Live long and Prosper, Captain Georgiou. Do not lose hope in your loss of Michael.”

Philippa bowed her head though she let out another shaky breath as soon as the holograms were cut, turning off her holo-communicator then a bitter laugh followed.

_‘Do not lose hope….’_

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take as much time as Philippa originally thought to start looking into arranging Michael’s funeral after a few days of more paper work. Amanda had been tearful about the whole planning as she got to the Star base. Sarek hadn’t accompanied her which was no surprise.

What had been a surprise was that Amanda had chosen a small casket, for post-cremation space burials over a _standard_ casket that was commonly used. Inside, though no body Amanda has insisted on putting Michael’s belongings into it to send out; its stop would be _Doctari Alpha_

Though Philippa wasn’t the one for that as a location, the place of her parent’s death but Amanda had revealed that they had erected a memorial for those killed in the Klingon attack on _Doctari Alpha_ 20 years ago.

Today, it was the day of the funeral. One of many happening on the base for the fallen. Rooms were taken over by the preparation or by those guests that were attending. For Michael, there was a small gathering, mostly those from the Shenzhou who were able to come though some had been resistant but she had requested them to come, they only came for her, not Michael. It was enough for her for now

Nerves and the ache in her chest was the most prominent emotions, Philippa was in touch more with as they made the final preparations.

“Would you like to carry it out?” Amanda asked as they stood preparing the small case, no bigger than a large shoe box though within it Michael’s rewards of achievement from the Vulcan Learning centre, a copy of her Alice in wonderland book (the original was MIA) though Philippa was unable to resist to acquiring a Starfleet uniform; complete with the copy of Mitchel’s badge though she found herself staring at the metallic golden badge in her hand…. Over the inscription

 _Burnham_  
_Michael_  
 _SC0064-0974SHN_

While she knew it wasn’t the original but that mattered little. She found herself running her thumb over the name.

“Captain Georgiou?” Amanda’s voice broke her out her thoughts, her head raising to see Amanda standing much closer and concern lingering in her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the badge for a second before she handed over the tightly packed items of uniform. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Philippa knew her answer was quicker than intended but she knew Amanda would see past her statement anyway to know she was far from okay. The woman has married and raised a Vulcan; she was far too in-depth with the masters of emotion to know.

“Did you want to carry it out?” Amanda asked again, placing the uniform on top though it was folded in a way that exposed the left side of the blue lined shirt of where the Starfleet badge sat.

Philippa didn’t answer her though stepped forwards, hesitating before she placed the badge down in its place. She didn’t want to send off Michael’s memory without the stamp of having been a good officer. The captain knew she could have easily pack what they had but Michael was still a Star fleet officer; excluding her last day, everything before that had proven the fact. If she had gotten her body, she was sure she would have been dressed in her Starfleet uniform. After all, she was killed in action, duty _for_ Starfleet.

 “Perhaps.” To see her off… could she really turn that down? If she did, would she regret it? Her gut said enough, tightening at the thought of just walking off now and taking a seat; watching as Amanda brought it down… No. She would. This… this _had_ to be her closure. What more could she do now to carry on?

Amanda closed the case with a quiet thunk after a moment, the clicks echoing and signal its locking systems activated. Her hand rested softly on the top before she inhaled deeply. “I think she’d want you to.”

Philippa nodded, stepping forwards and slipped her hand under the metal casket and lifted; much heavier than she expected, sagging in her arm but she adjusted her grip.

“I can get a trolley…” Amanda mused, seeing her struggle but Philippa shook her head. She _got_ this.

 

* * *

 

The room was laid out with seats with an aisle between them and a small stand where the casket would go; under that was a chamber down that left directly to the propulsion chamber; where the casket would be shot out of for its final destination. A small stage that simply consisted of a podium that faced both crowd and stand. It was make shift and held no decorations and simply for it’s temporary purpose.  

Half the seats were filled, the front row, she could immediately see Saru’s head, Sarek seated a few chairs down though most of the crowd was from the Shenzhou which had bulked it out. Philippa knew it was hard for them to be here and they weren’t here for Michael, at least not all of them; they were here for her, their support in this heinous time.

Her steps were careful and measured as she walked, gaining every one’s attention who straightened up ready. Each step, it felt like the case was gaining more and more pounds but Philippa didn’t know if it was simply her arms aching in its weight or the emotional coil she had pushed back for the past couple od days within her that was becoming unsettled with this newer reality; that this funeral was actually happening. That her death seemed more real.

At the stand, she carefully placed it down. The weight off seemed to be a real relief to her arms but the coil tightened more, her hands rested on its side with some sentimentality; it didn’t matter if Michael wasn’t in it or not… it felt like a goodbye. Her throat felt thick but she was aware of the many eyes on her and she was the main point of focus. Her eyes turned to the stand, though it was a welcome that a standard Starfleet minister took the stand and called to start. She hazily found herself seating back beside Amanda as she did so.

She didn’t listen to the Minister as he talked on lives lost in duty and the duty they all had… it all felt like background notice until it was time for those to speak; her eyes focusing to see Saru taking the first stand.

“Many of you, you served alongside us on the Shenzhou,” Saru started softly, his voice a little lower; an indication to her he was holding back strong emotion to speak clearly. “I’ve only known Michael for 7 years, as most of us were already there on her arrival since she came on board, as many of you know we didn’t always see eye to eye.” He smiled softly, “we fought with disagreements, many of you enjoyed our banters, but despite her flaws she was dedicated to her beliefs. An impressive drive. She was Brilliant and it is a loss to Starfleet.”

Philippa found herself smiling, recalling Michael’s first arrival on the ship; her Vulcan haircut and posture, how she spoke reflected her nurture at Sarek’s hand. Her desire to break her free of that mould; to see her bloom out to be more; no more restraints on her personality. She had tried and though Michael had been resistant at first, Philippa knew she had worn her way into her heart first… perhaps it had been seeing her blossom that she had thought she could pull Michael out of going into Vulcan-mode in certain situations, like that day….

Michael had a lot of passion that drove her. Fuelled her into taking the path that was cut too short. The bruised left of her Vulcan-nerve pinch was next to gone; she hadn’t wanted them healed and they had ached but now she could almost feel them ache again as the knot churned in her stomach. Saru stepped down after he was done, wiping his eyes softly, his hand brushing over the case as he retook his seat.

Philippa watched as a few more crew members spoke, then Amanda though she was unable to finish before she broke down into tears, Sarek guiding her back to her seat. Then it was her turn.

The captain almost felt the nausea as she rose to her feet, though she stood at the stand for a minute, she had a speech but it could hardly translate into workable words in her mouth; her throat felt clogged up and her eye seared but she forced herself to take a deep breath.

“I’m sure that… many of you noticed that I was close with Michael on board the Shenzhou. I saw that… she had a lot of potential inside the shell the Vulcans put around her.” Philippa started, though meant little disrespect towards Sarek as she spoke, “She was withdrawn; it showed she hadn’t spent a lot of time around humans until she was assigned to our ship. I wanted to break her free of that shell, to become more than a human who didn’t get into the Vulcan Expeditionary group. She had the potential to lead, to be a captain. Michael was smart, she had compassion and an incredible drive for good with an exporter’s curiosity. I tried to teach her by example over those 7 years she jumped the ranks.” Philippa sucked in deeply.

“I know that…many of you want to blame Michael for what happened that day. But _this_ isn’t the day I want her memory to be marred in with what happened on her last. She made a mistake and she paid the terrible debt for it to try and ensured our survival.” She could feel her throat thicken more. “None of you knew what happened on that ship except her death but she was dedicated to her last second for trying to continue our mission against the Klingon that attacked us. It… haunts me deeply that I was unable to bring her home but I am proud of her, as if she was my own daughter,” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I didn’t want to give up on her. She was too good for that and it’s a loss that she’s no longer able to fight beside us in this War.”

The hot tear she had been holding back fell and this time she allowed it, stepping down from the stand, she placed herself back into her position though everyone seemed to rise as no one else came forwards. Philippa knew she could have said more, but she couldn't... it was too close, too personal now to go further. Philippa watched though through her blurred vision as the stand with the case descended down, the floor chamber opening up and she could only watch as the system turned on with its compact engines to get to its last ride. Philippa’s eyes followed it, ignoring the wold around her and the minister who spoke before it made its move. Slowly at first but then like a pulsar, it darted away….

More hot tears spilling down her cheeks. _‘Goodbye Michael’_ the though almost like whisper, feeling something cold was pressed into her palm and her fingers curled around it automatically but her eyes didn’t leave the window, the spark of its little engines blurring out into the distance, blending in.

Philippa though headed towards the glass as everyone said their goodbyes to each other and took their own leave. She knew Saru was the last person to leave; she could feel his concern. Her fingers tightened around the metallic object.

Her head bowed though, twisted her wrist and opened her palm to see what it actually was, unable to hold herself back from the sob of Michael’s Starfleet badge that had been given back to her, her arm coming to support herself against the glass, unable to stop herself as the sobs and the reality wracked through her body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyy, thanks for ll those that have commented! I love reading them, they're so supportive and they really increase my muse for this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> and I have a few fresh ideas that could lead me to expand more on this fic, or alternatively make an AU/series that involves potentially Micheal from another universe crossing over and crossing paths-- not sure yet but i won't mind those ideas (i'm looking at my other Micheal fics for their AU to drop in (like the augmented and vamp) ) But I'm certainly open to ideas and suggestions
> 
> anyway, drop some love and some comments and hopefully, maybe we'll see more than a total of 4 chapters for this book!


	4. USS Discovery

Philippa strode though the identical hallways of the USS Discovery, trying to shake off the mild sensation of nausea from the transport beam and the onslaught of memories of her return to the Shenzhou that day.

It had been 5 weeks since Michael’s funeral and things hadn’t been easy but Philippa kept herself busy and the distraction was necessary, accepting the command on the last day of the deadline. Building a façade was necessary but she knew she had yet to _really_ face her emotions and she did envy Sarek’s abilities of dealing with the grief. The few times she had seen him since the funeral, he looked as he always did. Burying the ache of loss was all she could do for now, even if she could feel it constantly like a chronic pain. Worse _this_ time around.

Sleep had been hard to get, simply due to the nightmares had been plaguing her unconscious mind since then; replaying the same events of her death, the battle, reliving the moment of when Michael turned against her, sometimes all mixed into one. Philippa knew better than to consider aid from sickbay from the past experiences; that wouldn’t help, even if the tiredness burned at her eyes and sat like a weight in her forehead. She could live with it.

The USS Discovery was much grander than Shenzhou. Simply because it was new, its whole new brand and built around the schematic input of the new propulsion drive that they were still developing. On this ship and their sister ship, the USS Glenn that was under the command of Captain Lorca. She had heard of him trying for Discovery since the loss of the USS Buran but the Glenn was his next command.

Its new transporter was much smoother too but that did little to supress the feels she had in association to it now every time she used it. The hallways were as identical and the new crew filled it out with ease. Rooms were bustling with life and they even had a mycelial crop being tended to for their spore drive by Lieutenant Stamets who, from what she heard, was less than pleased for their work to be dragged into this context of usage. Yet she couldn’t find a lot of guilt concerning that for now. Pre-war, maybe but not now.

Like the Shenzhou, she chose her ready room to be beside the Bridge, spacious and with similar features but while the things stood in the middle of it, she had hardly had the chance or desire to unpack into it since getting here.

“Captain Georgiou.” A voice called though Philippa barely broke her fast stride.

“Walk with me, Commander Saru.” She called back, her tone flat, as it was in recent days.

Saru’s steps was easy to hear as he caught up to walk beside her. “We’ll be leaving Space Dock in an hour, I’ve been told we’re expected to stay away from the front lines until our drive is up and working.”

“I know, Saru. This ship is a science vessel but most of our crew aren’t trained in battle. The gap between now should give us plenty of practice.”

“With respect, Captain, That’s…not what the crew signed up to.”

Philippa gave him a sharp piercing look. “We are at War, Saru. I don’t like it but if we’re cornered by the Klingon sneak attack then how is this crew to survive? I’m not prepared to lose _another_ ship… or crew member for the war.”

Saru nodded quickly though expression remained concerned despite seeing her reasoning but she couldn’t linger on how different she sounded now. But she had learned from her battles in her past. She had certainly learned from _this_ and she didn’t plan to make another mistake and let the cost of that take more from her.  She herself had little to lose but this ship and this crew. Nor did she want to get herself killed for nothing, Michael didn’t die on that ship for her to die recklessly in a war with untrained crew.

They headed towards the turbolift though Philippa called out for the Bridge. She had already gotten word of Admiral Cornwell wanting to talk to her there so that was where she was heading.

Silence relapsing between them as the turbolift moved though Philippa could sense from Saru’s posture his displeasure.

“Permission to speak freely, Captain.” Saru asked, unable to hold himself back for a second.

Philippa sighed deeply. “Granted.”

“I know that since… the funeral we haven’t talked much.” Saru started, hesitance lingering in his tone, “but I sense that… you’re different, Captain.”

Philippa nodded. “I’m _focused_ , Commander Saru.”

“With respect captain, I can sense your limbic systems in overdrive. I can tell you’re exhausted and not entirely in a good place. Emotionally. I’m simply expressing my _concern_ for you, captain.”

“Please refrain of psychoanalysing me, Commander Saru.” Her tone wasn’t hard, nor was it soft but his concern was touching to hear nonetheless. “I’m doing what I _need_ to do.”

The doors pinged open and she strode forwards, leaving the Kelpien on the bridge as she headed into her ready room. Inside, Admiral Cornwell’s hologram flickered as she turned to face her.

“Captain Georgiou.” She greeted without a hesitation.

Philippa incline her head in acknowledgement. “I’m surprised you’re calling, Admiral. Seeing Discovery off?”

Cornwell shrugged. “I thought it best to check in. “

There was a lot more undertone to the admiral’s implication than to what she simply said. Philippa wasn’t fooled to think this was a business call either.

“What do you _want_ , Kat?”

The hologram’s arms folded, Cornwell’s face stern but not displeased. “I heard reports of a high amount of star-fleet officers charged with a disciplinary for insubordination and offensive comments, along with the fact you’re stance on Starfleet principles seemed to have changed. Is it true you suggested firing first when the USS Bowlen came across a barely-armed Klingon supply-line?”

Philippa shrugged. “The Klingon vessels were destroyed before they could turn on their weapons, not to mention saved the ships and gained valuable assets for the Federation.”

Cornwell’s face remained impassive. “And the disciplinary you’re handing out like candy?”

“I only give them to the ones that _think_ Michael deserved her fate.” Her tone turned into a growl, as she felt the familiar flush of anger in her system at the recalling the same whispers that went around. Only now, people knew to keep it to themselves and she knew certainly that the crew on the Discovery; despite being new, knew _not_ to bring up the name or reference on Michael…

Cornwell let out a breath, shaking her head in almost aspiration. “Philippa… You have to get over this. You can’t keep punishing officers on those comments. Almost all the Admirals I work with do believe she’s the cause of this war-“

“She is not the _cause_ , Admiral.” Philippa interrupted quickly, her jaw tightening. “We hailed, _they_ fired first. They started the war. Michael did not, even with her stunt of mutiny; we still didn’t fire.”

“It was supposed to be a ‘ _fly-by’_.”

Philippa’s jaw clenched at her quote and implication but she recalled Saru’s words from their talk after she had been dragged out her room. “Any other ship would have investigated the Klingon Artefact. I do not see either how it would have been avoided is someone _else_ had also gone there instead, can you?”

Cornwell stepped forwards. “ _Your_ reports say enough. Philippa. Your crew said enough in _theirs_. But the people need someone to blame and the Klingons aren’t the excuse, or at least not yet.”

“You’re tarnishing the name of a good and brilliant Starfleet officer!” Philippa’s voice rose and she could feel the strain in her hands, her hands clenched tightly. “She didn’t work this _hard_ to be _my_ first officer, only to be wiped away by Starfleet’s need for a scapegoat. She didn’t deserved any of that. Starfleet didn’t deserve her.”

Cornwell didn’t speak but her gaze was narrow and calculating and her face as impassive as ever but none of it felt like it was good.

“No, we didn’t. But at the end of the day, we’re still fighting. She’s not here and you’re…. you’re _different_ , Philippa.”

There was a moment pause. “Good.”

“You still feel guilty on her death, but you don’t need to be-”

“You don’t decide how I feel, Kat. I don’t need to be told what to feel and what not to feel. You’re not _my_ doctor so please, don’t act like it.” Philippa knew she was being harsh, but they weren’t talking as Captain to Admiral. “Don’t talk about Michael like you knew her… or that you know my grief. You weren’t there for any of it except to drag me out of my bed after her death. Now I’m here, doing that I have to do, for Starfleet and for Michael. Do you regret giving me this position?”

“Of course not.” Cornwell sighed deeply, “I know you’ll command Discovery well, and do everything in your power to help.”

“But?”

“Your changes of impulses are as much of a worry to me as your feelings that concern Burnham _directly_. You’re personal feelings on her aren’t going to work well in the long run if you keep lashing out at officers that bring her up. You never used to get like this, Philippa… I’m worried about you, as a friend.”

Philippa loosened her fists. “I appreciate your concern. I do. However… Michael _is_ personal for me. She was like my daughter and I’ll be damned before I allow anyone to shame her _in front_ of me.” Even now, she _still_ had regrets on leaving her that she could never shake fully.

Cornwell sucked on her teeth a moment, moving to pace around softly. “I can see I’m beating a dead horse here, so _fine_.” Cornwell moved on. “I am glad however you’ve kept Saru on as your first officer.”

“I had little alternatives.” Not a lie. But Philippa saw little reason to have _anyone else_. While he and Burnham had been neck-to-neck in regards to rank, she had chosen Burnham over him. It made sense to choose the next one in line now the position was free, even with what he did. But it wasn’t about what he _did_ that day, it was what he could do in that position now. Her trust hadn’t wavered in Saru but she had _perfectly_ implied to him that leaving anyone behind on a derelict Klingon ship was going to end in a demotion to another ship. She wouldn’t tolerate it again.

“I see.” Cornwell stopped a few feet away. “To business, I suppose now. You and the USS Glenn are to keep in contact with each other frequently. If one gets an update on the spore drive technology, I want the schematics and stuff sent to the other; I need your vessels to be locked and ready for when we need you. Two ships are better than one.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Cornwell’s eyes lingered on her face and nodded. “Good. Cornwell out.” The hologram flickered away.

Philippa checked to see the line was closed then loosened her stance. Her hand coming to her pocket, feeling the light weight metallic badge press against her thigh. It warm given how close it was to her body though she found comfort in having it. More than what she originally thought since Michael’s funeral. She didn’t dare leave it anywhere but on her persons. Philippa was grateful to Amanda for taking it out the casket.

Her fingers traced the rim against the fabric, moving towards her desk and once again, passing the small pile of her things to unpack and sat down.

Everything was quiet. The ship held its hum of engines that was the only real thing that made a sound but that was just a haze in her ears as she continued to trace her finger on the badge, allowing her hand to delve in and pull it out and allowed her eyes to rest on the golden polished metal of the front and let out a deep exhale as she gently placed it onto the cool desk surface.

Philippa liked the quiet though. Despite the amount of time she had alone at night, this was different. Here, she had more focus when working. A façade for her crew that almost seemed real. Not when trying to sleep or waking from a bad dream. Post-shift, the air was different; personal even and her mind seemed to relapse into the emotions she was trying to keep at bay. It’d get better, she hoped.

“Captain to the bridge.” Saru’s voice called though.

Philippa closed her eyes a second, retrieving the badge and slipped it away into the depth of her pocket, forcing herself up to her feet. Duty called again.

Without answering, she exited her ready room and onto the bridge, her eyes washing around to the new faces, some old and familiar like Detmar with her new augments though the helms woman offered her a soft smile of assurance before Philippa’s gaze moved on, finally settling to Saru.

“Time to depart, Captain Georgiou.” The Kelpien spoke.

Philippa nodded, striding forwards towards the centre of the room, to the captain’s chair. Her eyes lingering on its new and more modern shape and colouring but she hadn’t sat down in this chair yet. Didn’t want to with so many other duties to do. After a further second, she turned her back and gently lowered herself down. Her fingers curling around the edges of the chair’s arm rests before her weight settled properly into the seat.

She remembered the first time she had sat in the captain’s chair. Not as the First officer, but as a _captain_. The joy and thrill of it of that _she_ was the captain of the ship and the responsibility of duty that rested on _her_ shoulders. That she was a key role player in Starfleet. She was important and had a crew to work with her. That could respect her.

This moment, it didn’t feel like that. She didn’t know what she felt but thrill and joy were far too spent now but she certainly felt the weight of responsibility on their journey now. A new ship. Her first lost. It hardly felt earned now with the cost.

“Undocking procedures are underway, all systems are green. Engines are capable of maximum warp 9 and we have a destination in course.” Detmer called out, the ship systems of disconnecting the tunnels from the hull and saucer showed on the screen in front, hatches closing up.

Philippa nodded, sitting back. “Plot to course, Warp five. Estimation of travel?”

“13 hours and 27 minutes, captain.”

Philippa nodded. The green lights of undocking was complete and the ship moved forwards to get out of Space Dock’s range before they went into warp.

Captain Georgiou inhaled deeply. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay now she has the new command! god i so meant to toss this chapter out earlier but i got sidetracked with a another tumblr rp blog i made for a Michael lol. but it's here now. Love to hear your thoughts so far!


	5. 5 months later

Philippa lay under the covers of her bed, cocooned in it’s smooth cotton covered that was fresh and clean and was to her usual favourite scent. Unfortunately, not something that was able to lull her to sleep like it used to. Her eyes burned with exhaustion and the weight of it was settled in her brow and front lobe yet… her brain didn’t seem to want to cave for her physical necessity of sleep. Instead, it was replaying the more recent past events in her mind….

_‘Have you ever been tortured, captain?” The Klingon spoke. Philippa’s arms rested the tight restraints though her heart hammered but she kept her façade up out of pure habit; calm and collected though she watched the Klingon female as she stalked around a stand of sharp implements._

_“You have remarkably good English for a Klingon.” Philippa answered back, not answering the question. She had in her nightmares and it_ still _felt ongoing; barely outrunning her emotional troubles she was packing behind her. Physical torture was another story but she doubted it could be worse with what she had gone through. It was why she wasn’t scared._

_“I am descended from Spies. Languages are useful.”_

_“No kidding.” Her remark was scathing dry though she shifted in the harness she was strapped back in. Arms down to her sides, legs tightly bound and her head pinned back against the slab. It was loose in some places and obviously adjusted for her petite frame._

_The Klingon smiled tightly though she seemed to take her time before she picked up her first instrument; a mek'leth. Philippa stiffened up at the sight, unable to stop herself at the cold flush that settled in her stomach._

_“I know who you are, Captain Georgiou. You were there when T’Kuvma fell…” She drawled, bringing the blade close to her face. Philippa’s eyes narrowed but watched the blade carefully as it’s cool edge pressed against her cheek but not cutting. It’s cold steel felt like ice “Was it you that fired that fatal shot…. Or Michael Burnham?”_

_Her eyes flickered to the Klingon, more in surprise at her knowledge but the mention of **her** name…coming from a Klingon…. It boiled her blood just as much of the idea of the Klingons knowing more about her than she should have…It cracked her façade._

_Seeing her expression, the Klingon smiled. “Hm, I was there too… in the aftermath. You were gone but not her…” She moved around Philippa. “You left her behind to save your own skin…”_

_“That’s not true!” Philippa hissed out, her hands clenching tightly_

_The blade returned, this time lowered to her throat; forcing her to remain still._

_“Well, captain, if you had wanted to spare her that death; you should have fired first.” There was a flash of heat that made her flinch but not nearly so much as the new ache in her chest at the snide remark. “And just for you, Georgiou… I kept the blade.” The Klingon moved away though it took a moment, through the stinging and the hot sensation dripping down her cheek to realise what the Klingon meant._

_Her eyes locked onto the blade, it’s edge now dripping with fresh red blood but it immediately churned her stomach in the realisation… that mek'leth the Klingon was using wasn't a random one. An angry snarl passed her lips and a new welt of anger washed through her, her body pulling against her restraints._

_“I bet she was close to you…to get_ such _a reaction…” The Klingon commented as if amused, cocking her head to the side but the blade was held close to her skin. “The pain you must be feeling; knowing what we_ did _to her…”_

_“Go to hell!” She spat out, anger filtering through her veins, blocking out the second slash of pain this time down her shirt, cutting the fabric open and just into the flesh, blood seeping through in it’s trail.._

_The Klingon just laughed but carried on as if she had never spoken, “with little supplies, we feasted on her flesh… Voq took most pleasure in stripping her skull—“_

_“Shut up!” Philippa screamed out. She didn’t want to hear this… didn’t want to hear the horrible things that had done to her Michael…. It twisted her stomach in the worst way…_

_A sudden hand clamped over her lips, forcing her skull painfully into the hard metal slab. Her eyes filled with tears, feeling the pressure resonate though her skull but she didn’t hesitate to bite down._

_Blood pooled into her mouth but the Klingon growled out and stabbed the curled edge of the blade against her chest… almost between her breasts but far too shallow to kill her…but the pain of it was sudden, a scream leaving her lips…._

That was her new nightmares that plagued her. Not the escape with Ash Tyler, or anything else had mattered on that trip. But that Klingon had stirred up the emotions she had never wanted to touch; that she had put aside for another time. She hadn’t hesitated to attack that Klingon either; scorching the woman’s face had been deeply satisfying. Taking that mek'leth... and then finding Michael’s _true_ badge… the Klingon had kept that too. By assumption; it had been meant for a second psychological torture session.

Philippa had chosen to keep the scar over her chest though when Culber had gotten to tend her wounds. Philippa wasn’t certain why but she had it now and she could feel it throbbing as it pulled in the position she lay in. The mek'leth stayed in her quarters but Michael’s badge… she kept that close. Once shiny and golden, it was scratched and marred by carelessness. It sat around her neck, this time on a golden chain. She could feel its edges press into her skin as well.

She was still putting those emotions away in boxes again to function but now, it kept her awake still. Burning in her mind; picturing the horrible scene the Klingon had graphically imprinted in her mind of what they did but it took everything to remember Sarek’s words;

 _‘She’s dead, captain. She’s gone. She_ cannot _suffer any more.’_

That didn’t change the fact it was making _her_ suffer more and the regret of not getting her body worse. It had hardly even felt like it had been 3 weeks since then… and 6 months since she had taken the command of Discovery.

A lot had happened since then too, not including her _lovely_ trip with the Klingons. The USS Glenn was working very close with Discovery. The ship using a found Tardigrade to access the spore drive while Discovery used Stamets; who had impulsively injected himself to get Discovery in and out of Klingon space to rescue her. She was grateful for that and it easily made the use of the _two_ ships very useful.

Ash Tyler had been set to work along with Commander Landry, with security. Now Philippa was more than happy to help end Klingon attacks with a fresh sense of vengeance; an unfamiliar emotion she had found herself indulging in, ignited by L’Rell’s graphic words and comments. She never felt more different since then. Something she knew Saru picked up on straight away. Cornwell too but they were far into this war now and the odds were evened.

But, despite all that, Saru was one of the few people she could still trust; even with the light resentment she had on him again, it didn’t damage their relationship. She didn’t allow it to. She _needed_ him. He kept her grounded and stopped her from crossing a line she knew she’d regret later on. Not that it stopped her wondering who the woman in the mirror was every morning.

After a long Philippa rolled over onto her back, staring up to the dark ceiling of her quarters for a long moment and sighed deeply out as she reached for the hypospray she hadn’t wanted use… but she had to sleep… had to find some form of rest…

 

* * *

 

Sleep had been light, despite the aid had only really kept her under, offering _some_ relief for her body before the day broke and duty called her to get out of bed but her head spun with mental exhaustion. It also too a _very_ strong coffee helped clear that away before she made it to the bridge, ignoring the look of concern on Saru’s face as she took her place in her chair. The others not noticing; she was very good at keeping it covered by now but they didn’t have the senses Saru had. She couldn’t fool him.

“Our new mission is straight forwards.” Philippa started, leaning back into her seat, “Soon, we’re going to approach a Klingon supply line that’s heading too close to one of our mining colonies and destroy them. Then head to a class M Planet, Pavho to meet up with the Glenn. They’re currently running a mission on the planet but we’ll be needed for assist on their mission...”

“Aye, Captain.” The crew echoed before the ship jumped into Warp.

Her mind began to focus more, the caffeine doing its job and the new mission gave her focus. The weights in her head shifted away.

“Captain?” Saru stepped closer, his voice much quieter. “Are you alright?”

“I’m _fine_ , Commander.” Her tone wasn’t abrupt despite the phrasing though she offered him a stiff and quick smile to get to task. “Prep the spore drive to do mutable jumps. I don’t want us to get caught with our pants down.”

A few chuckles softened the tensions in the bridge, a soft smile lingering on her lips.

 

* * *

 

24 minutes later, they dropped out of warp and _jumped_ to see 3 awaiting vessels, two birds of prey and larger ship. The air changed immediately as they all got into their battle modes, the red lights shifting into red alert.

“Torpedoes locked and ready, captain.” Rhys called out.

“Fire.” There was no hesitation in her words, watching as the Klingon vessels doubled back with their sudden appearance. Her crew knew now to get ready to fire first on her command.

Their shots hit their targets but the two birds of prey’s shielding took the brunt of it.

“Their weapons are locked on, Captain.”

“Then let’s get ready to jump behind the supply ship, fire on that when we get there then jump away while they double back.”

This was called through to Engineering, to Stamets and Cadet Tilly.

“Yes captain.” Stamets replied.

Within a few moments, the ship jumped, avoiding the Bird of prey’s fire and appearing to the ship’s exposed underbelly; the ship barely having time to lock its weapons before their torpedoes stung at its shielding; puncturing through before Discovery jumped away; barely escaping a shot that shook the ship as they settled.

“Shields holding at 89%, minor damage.” Saru called out.

“Detmer course: Pattern beta four five.”

“Aye, Captain.” The ship moved smoothly, dodging another blast before the fired again, hitting the Klingon bird and sending it spiralling back into its bigger ship; triggering a reaction as it hit its shields.

“Fire onto the command ship. Jump under to take out the last bird.”

The Discovery fired, it’s shot barely hitting the target but it caught enough to trigger a reaction; the whole thing going up but Philippa almost flew out her seat as Discovery lurched forwards before jumping to safety. Her fingers gripped at the edges of her seat, the rubber heels of her shoes digging into the metallic floor

“Shields at 74%, rerouting power to shields.” Saru called.

“Bird of prey approaching, weapons hot.”

“Fire.”

Two shots fired and the ship weaved past them and fired back. Detmer immediately guiding the ship to dodge and Rhys didn’t hesitate to lock and fire.

Philippa lent backwards in her seat, watching as the Klingon vessel tried to dodge, its wing clipping the debris from its late ship before the shots hit; sending the ship into a quick explosion.

A soft smile drew on her lips with a welt of pride. Training her bridge crew, including the different shifts had paid off _well_ to function this quickly. She knew each of them had cursed her for how fast paced she had pushed them through but it was all paying off now. One battle at a time.

“Well done.” She praised, the crew had earned it for sure. “Another battle won with minimal casualties.” Bumps and scrapes at worse but Sickbay could handle that quickly. “Detmer, let’s set a course for Pavho. Warp 5.”

The helmswoman nodded quickly. “Estimation of arrival, 3 hours.” she called back.

Philippa nodded and the ship lurched forwards into warp with a low hum. It felt good. Success to be achieved quickly and efficiently. They hadn’t been too out numbered. But she certainly wasn’t going to go for more than four ships against one; they won because of the element of surprise and the drive to get the hell out of dodge.

“Captain, we’ve received word from the Glenn. Captain Lorca wants a word concerning a new project.” Bryce called through.

A soft nodded bobbed her head, though her lips pursed a fraction “Send it through to my Ready Room.”

Keeping in communication with their sister ship had been expected, required even and Cornwell had explicitly told her as much. With that, they had gotten the work necessary to get a duplicate of the Glenn’s drive into their own; the DNA from the Tardigrade and several updates for it. Captain Lorca however was the _least_ enjoyable part but she knew to keep things professional. He had been different since the loss of the Buran so she understood his reasoning to see the end of the War.

“Commander Saru, come with me. Airiam, you have the conn.” She directed, rising from her captain’s chair.

Saru nodded and didn’t hesitate to walk behind her as they entered her ready room. For a moment it was empty before Lorca’s hologram flickered into existence, his arms folded over his chest.

“Captain Lorca.” Philippa greeted.

“Georgiou.” He nodded though he frowned softly as he looked at her. “You look like shit.”

Her lip curled a little but she shrugged. “It happens.”

Captain Lorca nodded though he loosened his stance; getting to business than lingering on her questionable health. “Our mission on Pavho is still on going, our team is still on the surface but we’ll be expecting them to arrive back within the next 4 hours.”

“Yes, we’re on our way to you.”

“Good. We need all our best mind to work the solution.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ve taken out a near Klingon supply line on our way down here so there shouldn’t be any Klingon raids near this sector now.” Philippa informed, folding her arms this time. “That said, wouldn’t sit with comfort.”

Lorca let out a soft chuckle and nodded. “Agreed.” His hologram glitching as he changed position. “Also, since the Glenn is otherwise stationary, Straal’s come up with a new line of…weapons we can use against the Klingons.”

“Weapons?” This was Saru this time, speaking for the first time.

Lorca’s attention turning to the Kelpien with a mild look of surprise. “They’re still in the prototype phase. He’s been looking into using the Mycelial energy as a way to power weapons and our wrap propulsion system.”

Philippa’s head cocked to the side a moment, gathering up what he was saying though the adrenaline of the battle was wearing off and her brain felt mildly sluggish for a moment. Taking a moment to process what he said. “ _Use_ mycelial energy? Don’t we do that already?” her eyes flickered to Saru. He did work much more closely with Stamets to understand it more than she could in her current state of mind.

“No, Captain. We ride along it but we don’t pull energy from the network.” Saru answered. “Stamets’s road trips along the network gives him a personal trip so he knows more about it than anyone.”

“Then I’m glad he’ll have his input too.” Lorca spoke. “We’ll send you the schematics for them. If all goes well, Discovery should have a better arsenal against the Klingons.”

Philippa frowned, mostly at his assumption she’d take it. By impulse, she wanted to. Better weapons would mean more efficient battles. The Klingons weren’t going to downgrade. By rational understanding, prototype meant it was still in the early stages. Stages that could yet display faults in the technology. _Somethings_ she could let go, like Stamets with injecting himself with the DNA because it got their ship active and working and it saved her. She was grateful for that. Despite Starfleet’s displeasure on it.

Restraint, that had to come _now_. There was no logic to take an untested weapon or system when there’s a chance it could blow up in their faces. Especially concerning the network. Michael would no doubt be telling her all about the risks in her ear if she was here. She was certain of that. Michael’s badge seemed to remind her of it’s presence as it dug into her skin from the pressure of her arm.

“Of course, Captain” Philippa started. “How has the testing going?” She needed more information.

Lorca shrugged. “We’re more focused on the propulsion system but all simulations are looking good. Mycelium charged torpedoes have yet to be tested but I’m sure with the Klingons about, finding the things to test them on won’t be too hard.”

Philippa nodded, pursing her lips but her decision felt made. “We’ll take the schematics, Lorca but _until_ Glenn has tested the weapons and your system, I won’t yet incorporate them onto Discovery.”

She felt the sharp looks but Philippa rose her eyebrow.

“You’re passing up the weapons?”

“No.” She argued softly. “I’m waiting until they’re safe for us to use before we put it on Discovery.”

Philippa kept her gaze locked with Lorca as many emotions passed through his face, surprised and confused were the most prominent two she noted. Debate too. He knew she was too stubborn to move from her stance now. The war _had_ changed her and she really didn’t mind making her point known. She wasn’t a push over and never had been, but she was fine to ignore how much she had changed in her command because at the end of the day, she _needed_ the results.

“I agree with Captain Georgiou, Captain Lorca.” Saru spoke up next. “I’d be… _unwise_ this early on to take untested technology.”

Philippa smiled as he backed her up. It was perhaps Saru that _really_ kept her grounded.  Saru’s questioning, his words on her _core_ moral perspectives and principles stopped her from crossing that line, to which she was grateful for. Her resolve to see the War end was hard, and she couldn’t accept possible risks to her ship and crew. Not _again_. Saru understood that more than anyone. He had seen what she had been like after her death… he knew what she was holding back _now_.

Lorca still wasn't entirely pleased but he nodded, accepting the decision “We’ll send them over once we’ve finalised the reports. You should have them within the hour.”

“Thank you.” She turned and flicked of the hologram projector and headed over to her desk with a deep exhale. Saru shadowing her silently but he seemed to be pursed to speak. “You can speak freely, Saru.”

The Kelpien nodded though he looked at her with deep concern in his eyes. “Despite my concerns captain, I am relieved you’re not jumping the gun, so to speak, on what Lorca was proposing.” He mused. “I’d be much more concerned if you had.”

Philippa snorted softly, sinking into her seat. “Lorca’s rushing too fast into things. I want to keep my crew alive.”

Saru inclined his head in agreement. “I am concerned that… you are disregarding the Glenn.”

Philippa’s eyes flickered to his face softly, “The Glenn… she’s not my command or responsibility. Saru. If I _was_ to feel responsible for ships that aren’t my own then my worry will be on _all_ active ships fighting this war.”

Saru huffed lightly. “I’m sure you know that’s not what I meant, Captain.” His tone remained.

“I _can’t_ afford to stretch my emotional boundary past this ship. I am tired, exhausted and I need to see this war end. But not at the cost of my ship.” Her tone tightened as she spoke and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that to him; he could already tell.

“Of course, I understand.”

Philippa sighed deeply, fishing out the damaged badge from under her uniform jacket. Saru’s eyes following it though she removed it from around her neck and held it out to him. “I am not heartless, the Glenn will be a loss for starfleet is something where to happen. Michael is dead. Shenzhou is down. You and her still guide me.”

“She would not want you to break yourself, Captain.” His hand reached out, taking the small badge, running his fingers over the underside; over her name. “Surely we can get a councillor to help you.”

“ _Later_ , Saru. I can handle it”

His head rose but he didn’t believe her statement. Looking at the badge for a further moment before handing it back. “I’ll need to get back to the bridge captain. No doubt brief Stamets too on the off chance of success.”

Philippa nodded, placing the chain back around her neck and let the warm metal slink between her shirt. “You’re dismissed, Commander.” She smiled, watching him leave though she didn’t feel profusely better, she still felt her trust in him not waver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for those that has read the old chapter; I did do a re-write. after posting i realised, i NEEDED to fill in a gap or two and Philiippa's emotional issues that have yet to be expressed. While this is a filler chapter, things will get back soon enough. It's my fourth rewrite but I think that's simply the change of 'air' in the story than my own writing issues. It's a subtle adjustment. 
> 
> Please, tell me what you think of this chap so far, i'd love to hear if you think it works and such. I love Philippa and her angst and I'm looking to really explore what she's keeping hidden away
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Okay, I've gone through the fic a little more to sort out some of the spelling i missed on my initial read-through. I've done a few tweaks as well so it should have a few more flowy-ness to it.


	6. Detonation

Philippa hadn’t stayed in her office for too long as she had planned, writing up her after-report on the Klingon scuffle was boring as it ever was but necessary nonetheless to satisfy Starfleet command. Her eyes stung a little but her exhaustion was getting to her more and more; the adrenaline had counteracted her morning coffee and she had almost fallen asleep at her desk; her body not caring for her mental sleeping disruptions. It had been the ping alert of Saru that had pulled her from the edge.

So not to fall asleep, Philippa moved herself from the Bridge than risk dropping off in her chair of all places— the _last_ thing she needed was to fall asleep _in front_ of the entire bridge crew _. In the Captain’s chair_. If that happened, how’d she live _that_ down?

Instead, Philippa moved herself to Engineering when they get the reports.

“No, Straal, pulling energy from the network in that manner isn’t going to be a long term solution!” Stamets was saying as she entered the engineering lab. On the monitor there was a series of schematics and one was primarily focused on that looked to be an orb. “Sure, you’ll draw the energy you need and more but this… this is going to corrupt the network if it’s contained like this.”

“Is there a problem?” Philippa asked after a moment.

Stamets whipped around and nodded. “Yes. Straal’s suggestion of building a miniaturised reactor orb is destined to fail.”

“You can’t know that until we’ve run a proper test run, Paul.” Came the aspired sigh from the other scientist, his hologram glitching around with impatient

“No, I _know_ the network, Straal. It’ needs to flow, not be contained. More energy you shove into the ball, the likely chance its field will collapse and you’re looking at a tsunami of energy in _all_ directions. If that happens and we’re in range then you’re looking at your ship detonating as well as ours… and to rain down on Pahvo.” Stamets seemed to slink straight back to his argument. His passion very clear to see and clearly dedicated to the same preservation of the ship as she was.

“So the whole propulsion system will fail by its design, yes?” Philippa moved to examine the schematics, even if the finer details eluded her.

“No.”

“Yes” Stamets spoke over Straal. “Over time, the compression of mycelium energy will only increase, back feeding it’s negative energy back up into the system.  From there, the network will experience a corruption that was cease the network’s ability to regenerate itself. It could… even leak into our plain once the network has fallen.”

Straal’s face remained passive but the clench in his jaw told he was not pleased with the answers he was getting.

“Then we’re certainly _not_ going to put this on Discovery nor any ship if the risk is that.” Philipps was relived her gut was right in this case. “What about the weapons?”

“Less extreme but just a volatile. It involves compressing mycelium energy in a much smaller manner without as much mycelium as a reactor.”

“Sort of like how we charge our Phasers. It’s not much different.” Straal input tightly.

Stamets gave a indecisive shrug “Hm, it’s much healthier in comparison. Mycelium energy will ultimately be dissolved back to the network. So it’s restrictive nature is much more forgivable.”

“What weapons are the most useable?”

“Phaser, rifles and small torpedoes.  In that order. I’ll need to run deeper observations on them to fully see any…glitches.”

“Good.” Philippa turned her attention to Straal. “We’ll be dropping out of Warp soon, do you know if your away team is back?”

Straal nodded. “They arrived back ten minutes ago. We’re computing the uncompressed transmission data that should be available to you.”

“Good. Stamets, work with Tilly and a team on that for now. Worry about the weapons and stuff later. I need to return to the bridge.”

“Yes Captain.”

 With that she left the two to work. A welcomed distraction what verified the necessity of caution. She could imagine Michael’s smug expression over Straal’s blunder to get results. They shouldn’t cut corners.

“Captain on the bridge.” Was the standard callout as she stepped out of the turbo lift.

“We’ve just received the transmission data from the USS Glenn, Captain.” Saru informed brightly, “The away team said there was a run in with the natives, but they establish contact and got permission for the transmission tower.”

“I thought the planet was uninhabited…” Philippa mused though she supposed she shouldn’t have been all too surprised. Lot of things happened. New life forms had their own way of living. No wonder they escaped the sensors.

“Apparently we were wrong but, I’m hoping once the War is over, we could come back and run a survey on the planet. The team leader claimed the species desires to be known.”

“But I assume no warp technology?” Then they weren’t likely. General Order 1 being the primary reason. But for now, the planet’s natives was little concern to think about right now.

“No.”

The captain gave a hum then sunk back into her seat with a deep sigh, beating back another urge to yawn now she wasn’t as mentally stimulated, the tiredness seemed creep more into her brain like an unwanted guest shadowing her.

Within a few moments, the ship dropped out of warp and came to a stop. In front lay a huge blue planet, reminding her briefly of earth with it’s vibrancy of blue yet not all of it she hunched was water… it’s atmosphere no doubt. The moment of beauty was welcomed, a fraction of exploration that was lost in the war.

The USS Glenn was parked in the distance yet she didn’t need to magnify the screen to see that, by their ship position, it was upside down. Space had no up, no down. An upside down ship was more common than finding them all the right way up.

“We’re being hailed.”

“On screen.”

The sight of the upside ship disappeared as the bridge of the USS Glenn appeared infront of them.

“Captain Georgiou.” Lorca greeted. “You disproved the propulsion system?” His eyebrow rose.

“I deemed it too unsafe. I recommend you terminate your development of the mycelium orb. I’ve already contacted Starfleet to disprove the use of the mycelium network for propulsion.”

Lorca’s arms dropped from being folded over his chest. “You really went all out behind my back, Philippa.” Disapproval in his voice.

“I have my reasons, Captain Lorca. But I’m not here to get in a disagreement on your project. Our focus is on the Transmission data for detecting the cloaks.”

“I agree.” Lorca was quick to move on to topic. “We’ve made some progress since our last talk. I’ll send over the new information. Lorca out.”

A moment of silence replaced over the bridge crew though Philippa smiled softly, unsurprised at the brief meeting. If it hadn’t been a bridge call, she suspected he would have gone into further displeasure at her input against him.

“Keep to your stations, monitor long term sensors and the Glenn or any abnormalities or unwanted ships. We still left an impression on that supply line. I’d rather not be followed” Who knew if the Klingons followed their trail.

 

* * *

 

Hours passed before they got any news on the data, with an idea of using the network in coherence with the transmission sonar; they could map the space around their ship; void spots of cloaked should show on sensors. They moved away from the planet, now they had what they needed, staying in communications range.

“We should be have definite confirmation on it working by the time we get to Starbase 46.” Lorca spoke, his hologram pacing around the bridge of Discovery though Philippa stood with her hands on her hips.

“Unless we run into Klingons then we get our _real_ first test.” She spoke.

“Let’s not wish for that luck at such a delicate time.” Lorca chuckled

“Something we can both agree on.”

Lorca nodded. “Even though our ship can’t jump, our drive can still work as the cloaking sensor. Can your ship multi task both?”

Philippa paused as she went to sit back into her chair, the thought that hadn’t quite occurred to her. What if they could only use one, not the other at a time? It wasn’t a question she could confirm but her silence she knew gave Lorca her uncertain answer.

“Stamets should inform me once we stop—“

Philippa stopped short of Lorca suddenly lurched forwards, almost misbalancing. Almost instinctively, she stepped forwards but stopped herself; he was a hologram as much as she was to him.

His hologram gave a long glitch “What—- going…nn” the hologram glitched again, his voice distorting

Philippa looked to the communications. “Boost signal.”

The officer nodded before she turned back but the signal died, Lorca’s hologram flickering out of existence.

Suddenly their ship gave a lurch that almost tossed her out the seat, forcing to push herself back.

“We’ve dropped out of warp!” Detmer cried, “I don’t know what’s hit us…”

The lights flickered. “Red alert!”

Alarms blared but onscreen the Glenn was in the distance.

“Captain, I’m picking up strong energy readings from the Glenn. They emitted a pulse that’s disrupted our Warp Core. Energy is still building.”

“What the hell are they doing?”  It was obviously not purposeful but it didn’t feel good. “Put distance between us and—“

Philippa stopped.

On screen, the Glenn suddenly lurched… its saucer section starting to spin, getting fast as if preparing to jump.

“All its engines are offline as well as power… they shouldn’t be able to jump..” Owosekun called out, confused.

“They don’t have a navigator, they _can’t_ jump.” Philippa pushed herself out her seat, stepping towards the window. Millions of thoughts flickered through her head, to what was happening… how…but all her mind could think of was… that mycelium propulsion system. What were they doing to trigger the ship to react? She could see it wasn’t going to stop, in fact, the whole ship wobbled for a second then suddenly darted onto its side with a flair of lightning dispersed energy and stopped just as abruptly. Something was very wrong.

“Aww…” A soft hiss of a wince; no doubt unexpected; injuries were going to be high. “

“Can we transport people out?”

“Negative, their shields are up and… I can’t get a lock.”

Philippa’s jaw clenched a moment…. Feeling helpless as the ship once again spun suddenly, going 180 degrees to the otherwise. It brought her back to the moment of being on the Shenzhou; simply a _witness_ as the D7 ship rammed into the Europa… she could do nothing.

“Detmer, reverse back.” Philippa ordered as the Glen lurched forwards at its current angle. Then the turns became erratic, twisting as if jumping with bursts of its light, dragging throughout the near space like it couldn’t settle and stop. It picked up faster and faster too. The light getting more static, building up.

“Oh my god!” Detmer whispered, but the ship moved back as the Glenn twirled on the spot, becoming a blur…

Philippa moved back, as if that’d do anything… her heart in her mouth and the soft burning sensation in her eyes. Her hand came to her chest, fingers pressing into the outline of the badge under.

Then, the Glenn suddenly exploded into light; the shockwave suddenly lurching towards them…

“Everyone, prepare for impa—“ but she didn’t finish as she felt the energy impact and swallowed immediately into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Philippa groaned deeply, her body aching in a lot of places, mostly had stomach and forehead but there was no lingering headache; her mind felt oddly clear so it was simply skin deep. A coldness pressed against her cheek and the awareness that she was sprawled face-down on the bridge deck came into mind. Her arm felt numb under her and her fingers tingled.

“Ow…” The grumbled of pain came around her, her eyes flickering open to see many of the crew on the floor or against their stations. Saru was still unconscious. Detmer too given her slumped position and Rhys was peeling his face from his screen, using his sleeve to wipe the surface from his saliva quickly.

Philippa blinked but she felt oddly well rested for a forced and abrupt nap and her mind felt clearer than it had all week…

“Captain!”

Philippa moved, her body jerking more into life as she steadily pushed herself up onto her hands, sparing another look, Tilly bounding towards her, concern etching into her face with a fresh and darkening bruise on her head.

“I’m fine, Cadet. What was that?” She demanded though she didn’t quite trust her legs to support herself, Philippa could see this was mutual with a few others so she rolled on her hip to sit on the floor for the moment, brushing her hair out of her face; somehow her hair had come out of its pony tail

Her eyes turned towards the screen but her jaw and stomach dropped to what was now on display…

It almost looked like a wormhole, blue and green, static in colours that almost looked like lighting that looked to be in a rapid state of flux as it expanded and for a second, Philippa was sure it would drag them forwards… to consume the ship— then it shrunk with a flash… leaving behind almost nothing… Now in the void that once held the USS Glenn, was just a fraction of its saucer section… small debris floated aimlessly

It was gone.

Philippa swallowed thickly, a familiar tightness forcing in her chest but… some part of her wasn’t surprised; she knew what had caused it. She was never more thankful they hadn’t touched the technology. But everyone on the Glen was gone. The ship… she could only conclude after its explosion, it must had been sucked into the wormhole. Taking everyone with it. 

“Bryce, send a hail to Admiral Cornwell and Starfleet command. Tell them the Glenn…suffered a propulsion malfunction and the ship was lost.” Philippa ordered. Despite her weakened body, she forced herself up onto her feet, swaying heavily with the support and she sunk into her captain’s chair.

“We should get you to sickbay, Captain.” Saru spoke, his voice groggy as he awoke “Much like us all. The shockwave… had most likely caused some nerve damage to our bodies to render us all unconscious.”

The implication of that felt true, her body felt no less better but she knew her limits; the nap had done her a favour. “No doubt everyone else will have that idea too. Sickbay will be overwhelmed.. I want the reports of symptoms; people who are worst off need it first, anyone with mild symptoms will have to remain and—“

A ping interrupted her, it was loud but it wasn't an alarm. Her head turned to Rhys who tapped on the screen of his monitor.

“What was that?”

“Er,” A frown pulled between the man’s eyebrows, “The computers detected a shuttle…”

Philippa’s eyebrows shot up with a spark of hope at the idea of a survivor. “Can you hail them? It’s possibly an escape pod from the Glenn.”

“No, it’s been disabled. No impulse engines or warp but there’s… one life sign. In distress.”

Given the circumstances, that didn’t surprise her. “Tractor beam the ship on board and get them to sickbay.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Saru groaned softly, pulling himself up before reaching for his station controls. His pale pallor immediately concerned her as she watched, immediately having the desire to get out her chair but her legs weren’t able to comply.

“Commander Saru, get to sick bay, you look the worst out of us”

Saru eyed her for a moment then nodded to her assessment with argument. “Yes, Captain.”

Philippa watched him stagger away, the tense ball still within her but she could only hope he get there. “Tilly, Assist him.” She added after a moment. At least then she’d _know_ he would get to the intended place.

“Also, the shuttle… it’s registered to the Shenzhou…”

“Excuse me?” Philippa turned her gaze to Rhys, surprised at the announcement

“The shuttle, It’s a Shenzhou shuttle. I’ve ran it against Federation registry.”

“All of the Shenzhou shuttles were accounted for and used in the evacuation then refurbished at the Starbase.” Philippa corrected, shaking her head. She had seen the paper work and _approved_ it. Why would it be of here of all places? She looked to the screen, watching the blue light emit of the tractor beam as it pulled it in from ahead, which was also odd… being so close to the Glenn and the wormhole, surely it would have gotten sucked in.

“Well, it’s definitely a Federation class shuttle. I can confirm it.”

“But?” Philippa senses more to what he was saying.

“Its quantum signature is…off.”

“Off?” Philippa’s head cocked to the side. She knew for a fact all matter of this universe resonated at the _same_ frequency. Nothing could change it. Why would it be off?

“It’s not matching our own, Captain.”

Philippa’s eyebrows pulled together but none of it felt like a coincidence; the Glenn, the detonation and wormhole it created now a shuttle that shouldn’t exist and was—on a quantum level— not matching their resonating frequency. She didn’t need to know a lot about quantum mechanics or genius to put the math together. A wormhole had a hole on either side. A side where they shuttle must have come from.

“Then by conclusion…. We have to assume that it’s not from around here.” She deduced out loud. “Not from this universe…”

The captain could feel the looks but she knew the science was sound and the shuttle would prove it. Once the occupant inside was seen to and stable, then they could get answers. Verify it.

“The shuttle is in the bay. Transporting the female into sickbay.”

“Acknowledged.”

Philippa tried to push herself up onto her legs, feeling herself sway and the strength in them weaken but she pushed herself nonetheless. There was nothing else needed to do on the bridge and they needed to get to the reports and deal with the aftermath. Starfleet wasn’t going to be happy and she needed to deal with the heat. Damn Lorca and Straal…

 

* * *

 

“Repairs are underway, the ship’s systems will come on line in a few hours and from there we should establish contact with Starfleet.” One of the engineers informed as Philippa strode through the hallways, her steps strong and she felt almost back to normal. But she needed to take a trip to see their guest.

“Good. What about the status of our impulse engines and Warp Core?”

“Impulse engines are online, Warp core was slightly damaged but given we were stationary when the Glenn exploded, the mycelium energy didn’t cause any damage that could hit a critical system. We… may need to get towed if we can’t repair it ourselves.”

“Was our spore drive damaged?”

The engineer hesitated “Stamets… doesn’t want to risk using it at the moment, said something about the reaction cube being overfilled…”

Philippa nodded though she’d have to see him personally about that. They needed the drive, despite what happened. She left the Engineer and made her way down into Sickbay. Ad expected, it was busy but not as hectic as it had been. Hypospray and rest was what had been prescribed for the least-worst off and almost everyone had been treated for the shock way. Saru, she heard was still in sickbay

Philippa weaved herself around until she finally entered the familiar white room.

Opposite the door was an empty biobed, a nurse sterilising it down as standard procedure, Saru was on the side, resting on his bio bed but his heartrate was fast on his monitor and his face very pale; even his ganglia looked to be on the verge of making an appearance. Something was wrong.

Her eyes flickered to the opposite bed but it was shielded, an opaque shield that obscured the occupant within. Dr Pollard hovered near, even her posture was off, stiff with dregs of anxiety.

“What’s going on?”

Saru jumped a little, his eyes moving from the shielded bed to her with a look of alarm

“Captain!”  He sat up quickly and his monitor picked up faster. “What are you doing down here?” As if he didn’t already know.

“I came to see our mysterious patient. I haven’t been able to come sooner.” Philippa answered but there was a twist of uncertainty of what the issue was. She had never seen Saru look this anxious, even when they were battling together; he never panicked. Yet here he was.. Was he scared of this woman?

“Well, she’s stable. I’ve kept her sedated.” Dr Pollard started, drawing her attention. Philippa moved towards the medic. “She’s… shown to have a few violent tendencies in her confusion when we first woke her an hour ago. We’re hoping to steady her into it.”

“What happened?” From aside the field wall, there was a small tray that Pollard pulled over. On it there was a collection of badges. A sheathed knife and one unsheathed knife. Aside on a shelf, there was golden amour—tainted almost rose-gold with blood and black leather under layers. A huge golden cloak too, folded up. Unusual wear. Certainly _not_ Starfleet.

“This,” Dr Pollard pointed to the unsheathed blade. “Was lodged into her side; missing major arteries but doing a lot of damage to her organs which we’ve repaired. There was also traces of an airborne toxin that attacked her lungs. Target at human DNA specially. Fortunately, we were able to flush it out and her lungs are back to working order. The toxin did minor skin damage to her face and body but that’s also been repaired.”

“Someone tried to kill her.” That was the most obvious assumption at the two different methods.

“Almost was successful if we hadn’t got her when we did.” Pollard mused. “She’s not from around here.”

Philippa nodded, she could tell as much from the shuttle. “Any identification?”

That was when she saw the look exchange, the wariness in her eyes that was reflected into Saru’s that immediately set the atmosphere tense.

“Captain, I think it’d be best to… keep an open mind.”

“Who is she?” Philippa frowned, her eyes flickering to the screen. “Show me.”

Pollard nodded, reaching for her PADD but she still hesitated.

“She’s not… _me_ is she?” That, Philippa could see about the hesitation. Another universe; another her….

“Not _you_ , captain but…” Dr Pollard’s fingers pressed the button, the containment field dropping but Philippa’s eyes went to the woman lying down.

A sharp exhales of breath immediately seemed to lodge in her throat, seizing at her chest as an ice cold sensation gripped at her stomach; feeling almost winded yet she was froze to the sight of the woman lying on the bio bed, stripped down to sickbay basic clothing, strapped down was the real and alive, unconscious body of _Michael Burnham._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe yay!!! By far my favourite chap to write! Finally!
> 
> I didn't want to confirm on Micheal so soon and spoil the surprise but here she is!
> 
> Now. My Mirror Micheal is... on the same timeline the same world where canon!Micheal prime kidnapped Georgiou and it's assumed she was killed so this Micheal is post-that. Get it? Canon took Georgiou, this fic timeline, Micheal ends up on a different world after escaping her fate and not knowing that her mother is in another universe with another michael ((I hope you get what I mean lol))
> 
> now how if Georgiou gonna react to that....


	7. Michael Burnham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god.... this took so long to get to! I'm so sorry! I've hadn't had such a lot muse lately; the heat where i am isn't helping. 
> 
> But here it is! Please drop some kudos if you haven't already, maybe some comments, I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas.

Philippa’s gaze stared at the unconscious woman but she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs felt paralyzed and her body felt like it was disconnected from her mind. She almost couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing as a fact…. That _this_ was Michael Burnham.

“No…” She didn’t realise she had spoken, stepping back away from the bio bed. “No… no that’s not… that’s not Michael.” Even if this was Michael… it wasn’t _her_ Michael if her theory had been correct. Was this like a sick and twisted cosmic joke… aimed to her?

“Captain...” Saru moved from his bio bed but she couldn’t take her eyes off the unconscious woman.

“Nope… I can’t…” She didn’t finish before she impulsively fled from sickbay. Philippa heard no pursuit but that didn’t slow her. Her heart raced in her chest and she could feel her eyes burn wish hot tears but she blinked them away as she threw herself into the empty turbo lift to a direct deck for her quarters.

Her heart seemed to beat faster in her chest as the moments seemed to press in all around her, like there was a humming bird trapped in her chest but there was an internal sensation of a hand gripping her internal organs in a vice grip with a coldness that felt so much like that Mek’leth that had pierced her skin… like the blade that had pierced Michael’s heart….

It almost had her head spinning. Even with Michael’s funeral, she had tried… tried to move on. She said her goodbye’s… _that_ Klingon had brought everything she had successful to shove away for later _back_ into her face and she was still in the process of putting it away again since her kidnapping. Now _this_ … this felt like it was too much. It was suffocating…and it was terrifying to feel those feelings so powerful in her veins.

The doors opened and Philippa stumbled through it, almost knocking into Detmer but she said nothing as she next to ran; ignoring the call of concern from her helmswoman. Her body on auto before she found herself stepping into her quarters.

“Computer.” She called, her voice heavily choked up, “Secure door. Full privacy.” The sounds of the clicks echoed before she let out a heavy breath, her back coming to rest on the metallic surface of the doors, her hand coming to grip the frame heavily but the other come to her chest, clawing out the badge she had stuffed under the blue uniform.

Her hands shook but she kept a grip onto it, her thumb running over the scratches and the indents of her name though tried to catch her breath. To calm herself down.

_Michael is dead._

The image of Michael’s body immediately came into her mind… lying there, voidly staring up in a frozen moment; the Mek’leth buried deep in her chest cavity that only the two handles of it was visible. _That_ was Michael.

 _“She’s dead…”_ Out loud or in her head, Philippa didn’t know… but that was her grounding to the fact; Michael _. Her Michael_. Her almost-daughter was dead. It hurt and it seared her heart to know it was true and nothing was going to change the fact that she was never going to see her again… she had accepted that fact. Accepted that her body was lost and gruesomely dealt with by the Klingons. She could barely get rid of the regret of leaving her but this… this was all too much.

The Michael in sickbay wasn't her Michael. It was a knock-off of some kind….had to be. She didn’t— _couldn’t_ — hope for a second that _this_ Michael was anything like hers…. Her clothes said enough. Her Michael wouldn’t dress up in such an extravagant coat; it looked fit for a queen. Her amour was unique… showing her enough that this wasn’t federation; that _she_ wasn’t federation… her morals were different if there was no Federation. But her face… her face looked so eerily like her Michael. Though her hair was not straight; her natural curls that bunched to the top of her head…

_Michael Burnham was dead._

Philippa’s felt the cool carpet under her, barely aware she had sunk down to the floor, her back pressed against the doors; staring into her quarters but not seeing it but she had held onto a mental edge, keeping her from fully losing control of herself despite the face Philippa felt like she was back at square one.

Like she was on the Shenzhou feeling the entire realisation that Michael wasn’t with her; that she was gone and too far away. Dead. Defeated. Helpless.  The emotions felt raw and it ached with a fresh wave of vengeance for ignoring it to start with….

Her fingers curled tighter around the badge, feeling the pull of the chain against the back of her neck that dug in sharply but it brought a sense of grounding to get off the floor—stumbling up onto her feet towards her bed but she barely made it half way across the stretch of flooring before she crumpled down from the emotional weight that sprung forwards…

A heavy sob escaping her lips and her eyes seemed to fill with tears that burned down her cheeks. She didn’t want this to be real. Philippa knew hoping for such a thing was a false idea but she had plenty of nightmares before; the loss and pain in all of them with the emotions she pushed away… she knew they were going to come back but not like this. Not with this other Michael as a trigger.

Philippa hissed out though in pain as the chain gave way under the stress, snapping against her skin but she closed her eyes, shutting away the world around her. She didn’t deserve this. Not now. Not after everything she had been through and fought for. It almost made her feel nauseated the more she thought about it.

The door pinged behind her but Philippa knew it was secure; no one would come in without a high enough clearance and she didn’t want anyone to see her like this… not half-lying on her quarters floor crying. Not seeing how exhausting her emotions was eating at her; that wasn’t a picture she wanted people to see… they needed to see a strong Captain. A captain ready to fight the War. Not her like this…not when she felt so… _distorted_.

The door pinged again but to her dread, it _opened_. She stiffened up and didn’t dare turn to see who it was, her hand coming to her face to wipe away the tear stains.

“Captain….”

The steps were easy to identify before the voice but she shook her head.

“Leave me, Saru.” She spoke up, hating how shaken her voice came out. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder but she still refused to open her eyes, to see the look on his face.

“Computer, reinstate previous protocols.” The sounds of the door echoed again, re-securing it but there was little relief. At least it was _just_ Saru.

She felt his hand tighten on her shoulder and his stare to the side of her face.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” He started, a level of remorse in his tone. “I should have given you more warning. I knew that you’d be… surprised but—“

“Stop.” Philippa interrupted, “Just…don’t. Please.” She didn’t want this conversation.

Saru’s hand slacked a moment. “You’re not okay, Captain. You haven’t been for a while and I know that you’ve been putting all your feelings away. I want to help but you need to address your feelings and your grief over Michael. The woman in sickbay that is our next priority. But I know that… you’re not able to even look at her in your emotional turmoil.”

“She has her _face_ , Saru.” Philippa hissed out, dropping her hand and gave him a sudden scathing look, feeling the welt of anger seep into her veins. Pushing herself up to her feet and away from him, pulling down the zip of her jacket to open it up for _breathing_ room, feeling a little constricted now. “She had her face. She looked just like her. A reminder…. She just reminds me of everything we lost at the battle. What _I_ lost.” Her hands clenched tightly, the edged of the badge in her hand dug into her palm painfully. “I see her and… I just remember seeing Michael. Laying on that ship floor. Staring up with that blade shoved in her chest. Alone.” Her throat tightened.

Saru nodded, noting her mood change with ease. His eye giving a soft twitch at the background implication of his involvement and the mental image.

Philippa shook her head. She wanted to get mad, to throw things and to break them too. Maybe all her anger was coming through now? She hadn’t tried to reach this stage in the cycle, the pain had always kept the other crap away. But again, she was a captain, she couldn’t afford this… She didn’t want to be angry nor hold anything against Saru or even against Michael’s memory… yet, she did feel the ebbs of anger at Michael.

Not for dying or for suggesting their bad plan— Cornwell was right in the respect that they were both suicidal— but for _ruining_ their relationship; that Vulcan pinch that changed their fate as a captain to her first officer. Her trust in her fracturing. Philippa hadn’t wanted to give up on her. It’s why she allowed herself to go with that plan.

Mutiny… she could have done so much more to help if she hadn’t tried that, she could have helped fight the Klingon ship with her by her side, not in the brig as a _prisoner_. She could have trusted her to guide the crew through the battle and helped Saru. She wouldn’t be dead; they could have found another way too to get to T’Kuvma… but all that was gone the moment Michael had touched her shoulder.

A domino effect. One action led to another. If Philippa had taken the right instead of the left route on that ship then she would have faced T’Kuvma. _She_ would have been the one to die at the hand of that Klingon, to be left behind if their fates were identical…eaten too in revenge and starvation. But Michael took the right and died. Leaving her to deal with the aftermath of the loss and war. Now here they were, faced with a woman with her identity. Bringing up all of the buried emotions… but it wouldn’t be just her now, would it?

Philippa felt her anger waver, letting out a heavy sigh before pulling out a seat at her briefing table, loosening her hand to allow Michael’s badge to slide onto the smooth surface and sat heavily down.

“I… Philippa started, afraid to admit this but…. She had come this far, Saru wouldn’t judge her for it. “I don’t know what to do?”

Saru moved from his place and took a seat opposite her but wore a softer expression than she imagined. He… understood. While it felt good, she didn’t want people to just _empathize_ with her; she needed progression.

“A part of you...wants to hope that the woman in Sickbay could be like our Michael. Not a replacement of course but…. I also find myself torn to the idea. She looks like her, sounds like her… however, her aggression is a significant reminder that she’s no our Michael.”

Philippa’s eyes flickered up to his face at ‘aggression’. So this Michael was more fuelled to emotions. No Vulcan training. That made logical sense… what was her world like to mould a person in a different way?

“What happened?” Philippa’s voice was quiet in her question.

Saru sighed, his hands coming together. “She was…asleep. Dr Pollard and Culber had finished up on healing her. They woke her up but… she was angry…confused. She knew she was on a star ship but demanded us to try and take her back to earth. She didn’t know she had crossed to a different world. She got angry when Dr Culber insisted she needs rest”

Philippa nodded. That she could see. “Michael never did like sickbay…” Her lip curling up a little. A shared opinion.

“Pollard sedated her after she punched him in the nose”

Her eyebrow lifted a fraction. “How is he?”

“He’s been treated for the break and is back working. He’s chosen to keep his distance from her. Pollard seems to be the only one comfortable to treat her.”

“There’s a lot of bad blood concerning Michael…. How are we going to explain all of this? Starfleet… they’re gonna think she’s _our_ Michael. They’ll try to have her locked up for mutiny for sure.” Philippa looked down to the badge in front of her.

“You’ll have to meet her captain. As…uncomfortable as it is, talk to her.”

Her body stiffened up at the thought still but she _knew_ she had to. It ached at her chest and tightened its grip on her insides but she knew she _had_ to. Her grief and emotions, they felt all mix-matched now. She had to _literally_ face it in the sickbay. She was barely holding onto it now to think clearly…

“I don’t know that I can, Saru.” She whispered, closing her eyes. “You’re right though. I want her to be like my Michael. That way… all these feelings I have are better. That I could think I didn’t lose her. _Rationally_ I know that’s not true. Michael _is_ dead. She’d never coming back. I’m… I don’t want to trick my thinking about the whole situation.”

“You have us, Captain. Your crew. This isn’t going to be easy on anyone else.” He sighed heavily. “But, I have also considered that…we should move this Michael into secured quarters, let the hypospray ware off and give her a PADD of the situation for her to read—providing she doesn’t sneak out.”

Philippa nodded to the suggestion. He was right. Sooner or later, she’d wake up with questions. As Captain of this ship, she had to be the one to talk to her… no matter how much it hurt; to talk to this counterpart of her lost almost-daughter.

“Move her and give me an hour head-space. Contact Admiral Cornwell and request her here once our communications are up again. ” Philippa decided, her finger coming to run around the edge of Michael’s badge.

“Yes, Captain.” Saru rose to his feet though she gaze up at him as he pulled down his uniform jacket to rid of creases, tuning to the door.

“Saru,” She called out, taking a breath, “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took her a lot longer than she thought to leave her quarters… despite being on duty, Saru was able to handle the role in her emotional state and he had the right to. She had spent a lot of thought mulling on herself, on Michael and how this woman was going to be on the ship; how Starfleet would deal with her then she spent time in the shower, needing some way to feel refreshed physically; to wipe away the redness and puffiness on her skin from crying and to make a better first impression to the Michael. She kept her hair down though this time once she had dried it before taking her exit from her quarters with a tight knot in her stomach.

Commander Landry was the first to meet her as she walked.

“She’s awake, sir.” Landry started, stepping to walk next to her. “I was…able to convince her to put down the lamp and explained she was in another world but I left her when she started to read it.”

“Lamp?”

“Improvised weapon. She’s… paranoid. Not surprised if I heard correctly; two attempts to kill her.”

Philippa hummed airily, keeping it in mind. “What’s your assessment of her?”

“She’s...” Landry hesitated. “I get the feeling she’s dangerous. Low empathy but she’s smart. Once she was calm, she was measured. Unusually so for the whole situation. I’d advise a security team to be assigned to the whole corridor. I have a feeling she knows how to get out the room.”

Philippa nodded pursing her lips a fraction as she heard. So this Michael was certainly had her counterpart’s traits. Reading the situation, gathering Intel…

“She’s demanding to talk to the captain so… I assume you’re on your way to meet her?” A note of concern underlined Landry’s voice as she said this. Philippa nodded once. “I’ll stand by. Here, you may need this.” From her holster on her hip, Landry held out a phaser.

Philippa looked at it for a moment then shook her head. “No, but thank you. I don’t want to give her another reason to not trust me. First impressions and all…”

Landry nodded. They walked in silence but Philippa could see the security get more and more obvious as they reached the right sector of quarters. Armed security stood at both ends of the corridor and two flanked either side of the doors and even a containment field looked to have been erected in front of the doors as well.

It made her eyebrows raise though she didn’t disapprove if it was necessary. Once through the field, Philippa took a deep breath before the door opened and she stepped in alone.

Her eyes washed around the room, landing to a standing figure put seeing her almost took her breath away.

Michael was hovering by a darkened corner, the lights lit much dimmer than usual and she looked to be flicking through the PADD, skim reading the details. She was dressed now in basic Starfleet Pyjama shorts and maroon long-sleeved shirt than her hospital gown. Her posture was stiff and she paced slightly. Displaying to her that she was very anxious. A trait her own Michael had. She could cover a lot of her emotions, anxiety being one but if she was moving then it was very high.

As Soon as she had entered, Michael’s face seemed to pale and her eyes seemed to widen a reaction; yet there was a look of recognition that almost made her hope that this was… her Michael. But rationally through stopped her from reacting. Staying still as this Michael stared at her. Logically. This Michael must have known her own counter-part to recognise her… personally too.

“I am Captain Philippa Georgiou. This is the USS Discovery.” Philippa started, formally. “You are Michael Burnham. You came through the singularity that our sister ship made after it detonated a few hours ago”

Michael’s jaw clenched a moment but nodded, her face masking her emotions quickly to compose herself. She said nothing so Philippa stepped in further to carry on.

“I will get to the point, Michael. In this world. We, The Federation, are at war with the Klingons. _Your_ counter-part… _My_ Michael Burnham had been blamed for the start of the war.” Philippa spoke, hesitating a fraction but it needed to be said. “She died 8 months ago. Your presence complicated the situation of what we’re supposed to do about you now you’re here.”

Michael’s head tilted a fraction though she looked to be calculating what she was hearing before she’d make any verbal reply. Much harder to read than her Michael, it seemed. Trained even.

“The Solution is simple if you send me back.” Michael decided to answer, dropping the PADD off to the bed, walking towards her and stopped a few meters away, her eyes running down her figure as is assessing her.

“That’s not an option. Your arrival was an accident that we can’t repeat. Even if we could, our resources are needed elsewhere.”

“Am I a prisoner?” Her eyes flicker to the door as if guessing the security behind it.

“No. A guest, I suppose. Our ship is undergoing repairs and we’ll report to a Star base where Starfleet will decide what to do about you.”

“Certainly sounds like I’m a prisoner, _Captain_. Awaiting my fate.” Her eyes narrowing a fraction.

Philippa didn’t react. “You have the face of a dead woman who left a huge impact, a name, a face that everyone knows. It needs to be decided by Starfleet. Your safety could depend on it.”

“I don’t care.” Michael’s tone cooled dramatically, her arms coming to fold over her chest in displeasure. “I’ve been a captain of my ship, I’ve had many attempts on my life and I doubt your…Federation will do much.”

Philippa’s eyebrow rose, a word catching her attention. Captain. This Michael was a Captain of a star ship. Interesting.

“How has that worked out for you now, Michael?” Easily implying the stab and gas injuries she had that almost killed her.

Michael’s face soured and didn’t answer.

“Where are you from?” It was curiosity and about time she got her own answers. “I don’t know about your world. The data on your shuttle was corrupted from damage.”

Michael stepped back with a bitter laugh. “Why do you care if I’m not going back?”

“I want to…understand what sort of world you come from. You’re shaped by your world. You look like you know me, or at least my counter-part of your universe, you attacked one of our doctors and we found you half-dead. I think we’re allowed to be curious, don’t you?”

Michael’s face didn’t change though nodded once to her logical reasoning. “I suppose.”

“Start with you.” Philippa moved further in by another step. “I take it you were born on Earth?” Prompting her start now.

Michael nodded, folding her arms. “We don’t have a federation. Only the Terran Empire. My birth parents died when I was young. Murdered by the rebellion that wanted to destroy the empire. The Emperor, my mother, took me in as her daughter.” Her tone was carefully crafted, implying no name of her mother’s identity but it told Philippa enough that her new mother hadn’t been married to anyone else.

 “You became a captain.”

Michael nodded once. “Captain of the ISS Shenzhou.”

Philippa’s stomach tightened but didn’t display it. Of course… _they_ had the Shenzhou too...why that was surprising she didn’t know.

“I was forced to fake my death after a rebellion leader, Gabriel Lorca escaped me when I was sent to take him in. Everyone assumed I died and I let that guise continue.”

Philippa’s jaw clenched. Lorca too… “Go on.” She tightly spoke.

“My mother died. Apparently. Her palace ship, ISS Charon, was destroyed by rebels. With her dead, I had right to the throne so… I resurfaced. I stepped over a few bodies to get there but…” She shook her head softly, “I was _finally_ crowned. I was Emperor. I got what I wanted…”

“…until someone attempted to assassinate you. Took your throne?” Philippa finished. The picture painted a little clearer. It certainly gave her clothes more context now. Also another concern. ‘Stepping over bodies’ had enough implications that they could do nothing about but be careful.

Michael didn’t answer but nodded nonetheless.

“You managed to escape. The toxin in your lungs, how did you survive it?”

Michael scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. I was given a vaccine-resistance against airborne toxins many times growing for those exact situations. Encoded to my DNA. While it’d hurt, I’d still survive.”

Philippa nodded. That made sense. Also made sense why she was stabbed on top of it. Yet she still survived. “The Empire, why is there a rebellion?”

Michael didn’t answer though moved away to seat herself down, “it doesn’t matter now. Georgiou.” Her gaze flickering around. “We had a Discovery, under Captain Tilly’s command. It was destroyed a few months ago.”

“Rebellion?”

“Probably. Details are uncertain.” Her change of topic was easy to see, drawing it away from the main topic but for now, Philippa didn’t want to press. They were still on foundation-levels.

“You’ll be staying confined to these quarters for the time being, food will be delivered soon and I’m sure one of my Superiors will want to have a talk with you. I will need you to answer her questions.”

Michael looked at her for a moment then nodded. “Fine.”

Sensing an end to this conversation, Philippa moved away towards the doors, allowing the moments for the security to open it up though it felt good to leave.  Letting out a heavy breath as soon as she exited the containment field. The tight sensations in her chest loosening, relieving her of its intense emotional discomfort but it was pleasing a little. This Michael and she were on good footing…. How would things progress from there now?


	8. Discussions

Michael stalked around the quarters, her arms folded as she mulled over the unforeseen turn of events that had transpired in the last 24 hours. First, getting her throne and becoming emperor, only to be gassed, stabbed and dragging herself to her old shuttle she hid and flying like a bat out of hell; only to fly straight into an opening wormhole to another universe. Given the fact that there was a woman with her mother’s face on, she probably wouldn’t have believed such a thing.

No, she knew that she was now. She didn’t like it. It was an odd world. The lights were too bright; stinging at her eyes yet no one else was bothered by it. Was that a difference between her and _them_? Michael could only conclude so. She didn’t like this world. This federation. This… shadow that these people seemed to hang around her; as if they knew her.

It was laughable. Michael Burnham of this world was dead. Her mother was alive in this world. As a captain. A captain who so clearly wasn’t her mother. But her face… her face was so eerily like hers; it did offer a mild ache of loss within her. She missed her mother, she couldn’t deny but this wasn't her mother. Michael wouldn’t allow her mind to think for a second this Georgiou was like her. She was soft. She was sad and she had some sentimental hope for her…because she looked like _her_ Michael.

But, it was something she could still use however. There was no point being rude or throw a tantrum about her predicament. Escape had already crossed her mind but she had thought it out. Logically, she’d be caught if she tried. The guards, she suspected where no doubt heavy and she was unarmed and unfamiliar with _this_ Discovery. Even if she got out the room, she was on a star ship. Getting to the hanger itself was too large a distance when they could seal off compartments of corridors. Even if she could get that far and steal a shuttle, where would she go in this twisted mirror world? There was no empire, no allies, only aliens and the federation. She’d be hunted down for the fact she shared this Burnham’s face. If she had heard her mother’s counterpart correctly; she was blamed for this war so parties would assume she was _that_ Michael…. Severely complicated a lot of opportunities.

So that left the only viable option. Wait and see what this federation would offer her. They couldn’t lock her up on the accounts of _their_ Michael’s crime, they couldn’t lock her up on her own crimes of war given it was probably out of their jurisdiction. So she was safe from prosecution. 

Michael eyed the door again. Wondering when the next visit would be. Georgiou would no doubt come back… she’d have to worm her way into that woman’s heart first to get her trust; as the captain and as a _former_ captain herself, having strings in higher places would offer a lot to her needs.

The terran came to a stop and sunk onto the edge of her bed and looked to the PADD. Further reading on the federation. A necessary read up but boring in content and a lot of it. But it was clear the Klingons weren’t part of the federation either. A good thing. She hated them…. No wonder her counterpart struck up this war. Her fingers fiddled with the edges of it with the momentary debate on deciding to read up or not.

Then the door pinged.

Her eyebrow rose sharply. Much sooner than expected. Michael didn’t answer but picked up the PADD to look busy and turned away from the door, listening out as it opened but didn’t look back.

“What do you want?” She inquired as foot steps came to a stop.

“Captain Burnham,” Georgiou’s voice called, much stronger in tone, “The admiral has some questions, I believe that you do too.”

After a moment, Michael sighed and turned to face Georgiou though her focus turned to another very familiar face

“Cornwell!” Unable to squash note of surprise in her tone.

If it wasn’t for the uniform, or the softer look in the woman’s face, Michael could have mistaken her for Commander Cornwell. A woman that she herself had literally stabbed in the back in her own world. This Cornwell’s face was like an open book in comparison, a covered expression of bemusement that shone a hint of surprise in her eyes.

Beside her was a Vulcan. Tall and typical straight hair, uplifted eyebrows and pointed ears but unlike the few she had met, clean-shaven and held a frown on his face which for a Vulcan said a lot; he knew her counterpart too. Personally.

Cornwell’s eyes widened a fraction but she composed herself quickly. “I’ve been told briefly that you’re not from this universe. Of all the things to expect… You appearing from the wreckage of the USS Glenn wasn’t one of them that ever occurred to me.” Cornwell shook her head. “From your reaction, I must assume you knew my Terran counterpart but I will tell you now, I am _not_ her and nor are any of the faces on this ship anything like the counters from your world.”

Michael pursed her lips. “I can see that.” Her tone drying up. “I’ve been reading up on this…federation. Can’t say I’m impressed.”

“That is your opinion, Burnham, but I’m not here to discuss that.” Cornwell’s tone sharpened as she made a further approach into the room, getting more to business and shaking off her surprise.

“What do you know of your own counterpart, Commander Michael Burnham?” The Vulcan asked.

Michael’s gaze flicked to him. “Enough. She died months ago and started this war. I find no need to get personal with a dead woman that shares the same name and face as myself.” Despite the mild curiosity but she didn’t want _her_ personal entanglements to mingle with her own here. She wasn’t their Michael and she still needed to get that across.

“Then you must understand why we can’t let you leave this ship.”

Michael’s lips pursed with a flicker at irritation to Cornwell’s insistence. “I know Georgiou’s already informed me but do you honestly think you can just _keep_ me here, against my will and _not_ label me a prisoner? Where are those lines, Admiral?” Her eyebrow perked at the verbal challenge that was sound with logic. The federation was good but it certainly had ethical and moral views that she had no issue with raising.

“You are an unknown that we can’t treat lightly. You’re dangerous to others and from another universe. The Federation can certainly contain you for the safety of others. You did after all assault Dr Culber. That we can legally to keep you here on those grounds, Captain Burnham.” The Vulcan replied in a cool tone after a moment.

Michael’s jaw tightened but his logic was just as _annoyingly_ sound. But she didn’t regret punching the doctor, after all, she was confused and disorientated. Anyone would lash out and she didn’t like people touching her. While hitting people was hardly a productive way to get that across, the message would be delivered one way or another. She was use to that, obviously not a thing here.

Michael didn’t answer but sat back further on the bed and crossed her legs. “Perhaps, Vulcan but…” She paused, “I’m still not from this universe. That cannot be covered up so easily. I cannot pay for your Michael’s crimes here.”

“Then why don’t we propose a suggestion.” Georgiou spoke up, ignoring the quizzical look from Cornwell. “The Klingons exist in your universe, yes?”

Michael nodded. “My mother destroyed their home world, Quo’nos, the ones that survived are scattered. Occasionally regroup. Why?”

“Georgiou, with me. _Now_ ” Cornwell, touched the captain’s arm and led them away though Michael’s focus went to the Vulcan that stayed.  The door shutting behind the two.

The Vulcan’s stare was solid though she raised an eyebrow at his scrutiny.

“What’s your name, Vulcan?” She inquired after a moment. “I can only assume you knew my…counterpart.”

The Vulcan’s head tilted softly to the left. “I am Ambassador Sarek. By what conclusion have you drawn for that assumption?”

Michael scoffed a little, “You look at me like the rest of them. As if you know me. Because I _look_ like her.”

Sarek gave a curt nod. “Humans are emotional. Michael Burnham was a key component Captain Georgiou’s former command and my ward after her parents died. However, Your resemblance is… remarkable;”

Her eyebrow rose at the comment. But the fact remained they had same fates, orphaned and raised by other people but _this_ Michael went to a Vulcan’s home? Michael had her doubts; Vulcans were known to distaste humans for their illogical and emotional reactions. She was blessed to have caught the Emperor’s eyes to be raised by her. As her _Daughter_.

“I am not her replacement. I do not have such a connection back to you or anyone.”

“Indeed.” Sarek nodded, “But I cannot help but see you seemed to… look at Captain Georgiou different to the rest of us. Who is her counter-part to you?”

“None of your concern, Vulcan.” Her tone sharpened. She wasn’t going to reveal that. Not to him and certainly not to Georgiou. Who knew what she’d think? Rise her hopes up further that there was some multi-verse bond between them? Open that hint of vulnerability to strangers.

Sarek didn’t press further. “I believe, if you comply with the federation, we can accommodate you much more appropriately. I think for us to do that, we need _more_ than a simple verbal over view of your universe. Perhaps a more in-depth medical oversight. After all, you’re much more… photosensitive than anything else.”

Michael eyed him for a moment then nodded at his point. She supposed that it was necessary, even if she didn’t like it but she didn’t have to tell them _everything_ …. or truthfully. But she supposed her photo-sensitivity could be their only biological difference, or perhaps where was more that they were unaware of. Maybe they would treat her for it; make it easier to see in brighter lights… some potential if she was staying here… that wasn’t something she’d go around so… she still had to play-ball with this and see what happened.

“I’ll write something up.”

* * *

 

It was no surprise Cornwell had stayed quiet as she directed them away from the room altogether; passed the guard and Philippa could only guess- to her ready room. She didn’t feel that she was angry, annoyed certainly but this was an unusual situation; even with the Glenn’s fate thrown into it.

She hadn’t dared say anything about this…Michael over the transmission. She knew Cornwell’s stance of opinion of her mental well fair very clearly. She knew how sprouting the existence of a living Michael Burnham would have sounded. Cornwell had been quick to divert about this Michael than the Glenn as soon as they brought it up… so their talk was going to be a colourful one.

“Computer, Privacy.” Philippa called out as soon as they entered the room; the doors locking shut after them.

“What the hell, Philippa!” Cornwell started, her tone aspirated and Philippa didn’t need to turn and look at her to know her hands were on her hips. She sat down at her desk heavily.

“Which part?”

Cornwell gave her a look. “You’re not in the position of authority to offer any sort of deal to a woman with Michael’s face, Georgiou.”

Philippa nodded. “I apologise, Admiral.” She hadn’t thought further ahead in the moment. Her mind had ran with the idea…. If this Michael knew the way how they defeated the Klingons or at least kept them at bay, then they had a way to finish this war. Quicker than their current tactics. she doubted this Micheal would do it for nothing. 

“Look, I can understand your thinking pattern… after all, there is a logical reasoning to where it follows but… I cannot allow you to get personally involved with her...”

Philippa’s eyebrows drew together but she certainly felt mixed on what she meant but she could understand why. Nonetheless, she didn’t like it. “Excuse me?”

Cornwell’s frowned deeply. “You’ve spent months grieving on our Michael Burnham and hardly any better. I know you’ve been shaken up about it since your Klingon torture.”

“I can handle it, Admiral.” Philippa bit back in a calm tone but despite the truth of the woman’s words, she _wanted_ to handle it. Handle Michael… she didn’t want to be left out; cut away from this Michael like she had been so brutally with the last. If she was going to get any sort of emotional closure, it had to be with _this_ Michael. A second best. At least, she believed so in this short amount of time.

Cornwell’s expression stayed unconvinced. “I don’t care if you can handle it or not, you’re bias towards Michael isn’t going to work in her favour.”

Philippa sighed heavily, closing her eyes as she ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing over her temples. “What’s going to happen to her?” She at least deserved to know that…

“Likely scenario, she’d be assessed and put through Starfleet training to adjust to this world. Highly likely news of her true origins will be scrubbed and she’d have to take the place of our Michael as a cover. From there, she’d most likely stay on in a different sector of Starfleet or released with conditions.”

Philippa nodded. “She won’t be locked up?”

Cornwell shook her head. “Dr Culber won’t be pressing charges on her assault given her state of mind at the time. It’s against our protocols to look up an otherwise innocent woman…”

“I assumed as much.” But of course Starfleet wasn’t going to let her off the leash. No one would be satisfied to know that the ‘mutineer’ got let off easy, even after her ‘supposed’ death. That had to be lightest ‘sentence’ that they’d do to keep a cover and allow the woman enough wiggle-room. There was some relief to be found on the plan but it felt uncomfortable.

Cornwell moved forwards and sat at her desk; a strong feeling of Déjà vu echoed within her as she silently observe her. “We’re still 34 hours away from the star base. Plenty of time for me to talk to her further. I don’t want you to talk to her unless necessary.”

“ _Katrina_.”

“That’s an _order_ , Captain.”

Philippa’s jaw clenched. A small slither of anger coiled up in her stomach but she kept it there, forcing herself to nod than say anything. She understood her position and reasoning. While she was also a long friend, she was after all her superior…. But which one was drawing the line? The superior officer disconnecting her from an emotional bias, or a friend who was worried on her mental well being and cutting her off from making her worse?  The line felt too blurred to tell….

Maybe the blast _had_ affected her judgement more than she thought. She hadn’t slept since the bridges forced nap…

“What are we going to do about the Glenn?” Philippa asked softly, changing the topic.

Cornwell shrugged. “We can’t do anything. Just the reports, Starfleet is handling the KIA reports to families and friends. Discovery may… be put onto the front lines or fall back to protect Earth sooner than expected. The Klingons, as I’m sure you’re aware, have started to break up into house fractions again.”

Her head gave a short bob. “In passing. I’ve been focused on the ship and work than… outside it for the time being. I’ll need to catch up. But…I’m curious, why did you have Sarek with you?” Though she had noticed his lack of presence when they left. God knew how he was reacting to the whole Michael situation. “Surely this is not a good idea to get him involved with _this_.”

Cornwell shrugged, “He’s a Vulcan, and he’ll manage.” Yet she didn’t answer. Not surprising though Philippa had half expected he’d make his way up sooner or later. Cornwell stared at her for a long moment, less filled with authority now. “Are you okay?”

“Are you asking as a _friend_ or an admiral, Kat?” 

“A friend.” Cornwell’s face softened as she said this.

Philippa looked away, pulling the damaged badge from her pocket into her palm, the chain still broken. “I don’t know.” She was honest in her answer, “I.. I knew Michael would come back to haunt me, I just didn’t think she’d _actually_ come back to haunt me, you know…”

A soft smile cracked along Cornwell’s lips but before she could answer, the door pinged.

“Disengage privacy, Open.” Philippa sighed out, though Sarek stepped in with his usual composed expression. Nothing seemed to display any discomfort.

“Captain, Admiral.” He greeted, walking in smoothly, “Captain Burnham has agreed to… write up a report for our understanding of her world. Once it’s written, it’ll be heavily guarded until her fate is decided. She has also agreed to allow a few medical procedures, more in-depth than the ones done already, that could indicate further biological difference between your two human races.”

Philippa felt her eyebrows raise as he spoke, surprised that Michael would agree to anything at this point.

“Medical procedure?”

Sarek nodded. “I noted on being there that all the lights were dimmed bellow our average. It’s highly likely she is…photosensitive. Her world may be dimmer so humans of that world evolved to tolerate a lower light spectrum than our own. There may be unforeseen differences we need to account for”

“Hm, I observed the lower lights and came to a similar conclusion.” Philippa mused. “Dr Pollard might be willing to have another go. I’ll talk to her later.”

“Yes, but I must offer a word of caution that this Burnham may try to manipulate you, Captain Georgiou. She is clever but also understand your connection to our Michael. She may try to use that.”

“Noted, Ambassador.” And it was… they after all knew little of her. She _should_ be more careful, try not to let her face get to her. Maybe she _needed_ that rest more than she thought… That’d certainly clear her judgement up further.  Philippa pushed herself up onto her feet. “I feel we’ve said enough for now. I need to…sleep on things.”

Cornwell nodded, getting up. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, this chap much longer to write-- a few rewrites too but i suspect the theme is changing again for the new change of pace with this new Micheal. God, so hard!!! Hoping the next chap will be longer. 
> 
> But I felt like it was time for a POV for Micheal, a look into her terran brain lol. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please drop a comment; I'd love to hear your thoughts about it;; it really does help!


	9. Final Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn.... it's taken me so long to get this chapter out! I'm so sorry!!! But it's here now and while it's not super long, I'm hoping to reach the end soon. 
> 
> Now, you've probably noticed, I reposed the frist 4 chapters of this onto a separate thing; that is for a AU series on 'what if's' that I plan to add to. I'm open for any of you readers wanting to write your AU on what happened with Micheal post-Georgiou leaving or something
> 
> also, on Instagram, an amazing edit has been made in inspiration of my fic!!!! I'm so happy about that; you can go and find it under the Instagram username: usstcrdis. I'll include a link in my bio (hopefully)

“Well I believe it is suffice to say our worries have value.”

Philippa’s eyes rose from her PADD to Cornwell as the woman strode into her office, a collection of PADDs in the admiral’s arms. The reports this new Michael had written up, she suspected.

“Go on.” She requested softly, leaning back and placed her own PADD down and folded her arms across her stomach.

Cornwell deposited the PADDs onto her desk and sunk into the opposite chair with a heavy exhale. “It’s… definitely an opposite world to ours. Humans are… not good. The Terran Empire have conquered planets and races and killed hundreds of thousands of alien species…including a few planets.”

Philippa felt her eyebrows shoot up. She had suspected something was different but all that… it sounded chaotic. _Wrong_.

“The empire has its own star ships, like the Discovery, the Shenzhou… its own counterparts of ourselves.” Cornwell carried on, that information not knew but it was part of the debrief. “Klingons home world was destroyed by the Emperor. Burnham still won’t give us an identity of her but it had nonetheless given us the advantage of knowing a way to…force the Klingons to retreat from Federation space.”

“Please tell me Genocide isn’t Starfleet’s agenda.”

Cornwell’s lip twitched but she shook her head. “It hasn’t come to that.”

 _Yet_. Philippa could imagine the afterthought of the possibility. It didn’t sit well at all with her. They shouldn’t fall for that in desperation. “So… the plan?”

Cornwell nodded. “With the spore drive, we should be able to jump to Quo’nos. I’ve read the reports from Stamets that the drive should be operational once we get to the Star Base. We’ll put a hydro-bomb into one the volcano systems and use it to black mail the Klingons away from Starfleet.”

“If they don’t?”

There was always that possibility that the Klingons could call their bluff although the dangers of losing their planets would have an ultimate effect of the fall-back. Threat of extinction, loss of a home world…it should be enough. It was a good plan, providing the abilities to get there and to plant it.

“Let’s hope that the threat is enough.”

“Hm.” Though Philippa didn’t hold too much faith on the matter; it would have been easier if they had a Klingon themselves to manipulate. Still, they had to work with what they had; they couldn’t have the Klingons get too close to earth. “How much data do we even have on the home world to get there? Being orbital is suicide.”

“I know. But the planet is literally made of caves. We still have data collected from 100 years ago and… Klingons are traditionalists; I doubt it’s changed too much. I’ll need to talk to Stamets about it, actually, see if he could jump us into a cave to start with.” Cornwell mused. “I’ve not yet confirmed this with Starfleet command, but once I know it’s possible and we have a location and a way in.”

There was no further statement, indicating that Cornwell wasn’t going to go too much into it with her but for now, she was satisfied with this belief to not need the rest. For now though, she knew her attention was drawn back to the problem still on their ship.

“Can I see Michael off when we get to Starbase 1?”

Cornwell’s eyes flickered back to her face, lips pursing but didn’t give an immediate answer but Philippa held her gaze, leaning forwards onto her desk.

“You’ve already said I can’t see her before she leaves, Kat. Can’t you allow me this?” the thread she was pulling was not the best one, but there was enough leeway of guilt that could allow her to have this one. Where this Michael counterpart ended up, she wouldn’t put it passed Admiral Cornwell to keep it covered from her

Cornwell eyed her for a long moment before her expression loosened a fraction. “I suppose I did say unless _necessary_.”

Philippa exhaled heavily but filled with a deep sense of relief… at least there was that. She could deal with that for now. After all, they still had to sort out the war before her focus shifted away, before the post-war Reality kicked in and her mind would return to dwell on the loss. She after all, only dealt with her loss _in_ the war. The aftermath… that’s no doubt leave her wondering. At least her thoughts might wander to _this_ Burnham than _her_ Burnham. As much as she could feel guilty on that, she could live with it for now.

“Thank you.”

Cornwell said nothing but nodded nonetheless.

_“Captain to the bridge.”_

Saru’s voice called to her attention, breaking the laps of silence that hung over but the call of duty returned as well as the trickle of nerves at the fact that in the next hour that Michael was _leaving_ …

Within the moment, Philippa found herself retaking her position in her chair and Admiral Cornwell hovering beside her as their attention was to the view screen ahead; the warp light ever pushing in front and around their field.

“We’re approaching Star base 1, sir.”

“Dropping us out of warp momentarily.” Detmer also informed. Her fingers dancing over her screen controls in preparation.

“I’m…unable to establish communications with the base… nor receiving any docking instructions..”

Philippa’s eyes flickered to Owosekun sharply, her brows furrowing but she could immediately  tell something felt wrong; Starbase 1 always had it’s communications open for the purpose such as this; to prepare for their visits. Ships that didn’t communicate said enough; enough to paint an implication that didn’t bode well

“Red Alert.” The light changes.

But the scene in front of them settled a cold chill in the bridge. Star base one was… not in one piece but in many. It’s main structure was broken off into two halves, the bottom section that bulged out into a saucer-like base was in the most solid piece; a Klingon insignia in red decorating it’s metallic surface like a brand… three Starship also seemed to be adrift and partially destroyed. It had been a fight. A recent one too from the decay rate of the damage readings she could see on her chair’s sensor readings.

“Shields up, weapons hot.” Philippa called, getting into an immediate battle mode as she had done many times before in this fight. She wasn’t willing for a moment to allow for a second for the Klingon to get the upper hand. “Check for human life-signs.” But her gut said that the Klingons were far too further.

“None sir, but we’re being scanned from the station. Klingons have powers up emergency generators on the halves and have armed available weapons and defence satellites.”

“Detmer, put us back into Warp for the Pavho system.” Logical course of action; go back where they came from and regroup.

Philippa’s lips pursed before her attention turned to Cornwell, unable to help the welt of concern for her; she had no doubt been on there before they had called ahead about the Glenn…

Her face was still frozen with shock, jaw open but her eyes were wide, looking as if someone had punched her in the gut.

“Admiral.” She spoke, her tone soft but Cornwell didn’t do anything, nor seemed to acknowledge her words.

“There were 69,000 souls on that base…” Her weight shifted, grabbing onto the back of her captain’s chair for support “a good portion of our leader ship and at least 3 Starships…”

“Katrina…” Philippa turned to face her; her hand coming to touch her hand lightly and bringing her back to the reality. Cornwell dropped her hand away and inhaled heavily before she turned and stormed from the bridge.

Philippa jumped to her feet but she could only watch as the turbo lift doors shut rapidly after her but knew better to follow; not after such a shock. She was needed _here_.

“Maintain present speed and course.”

 

* * *

 

It took a while before Philippa was free enough moved herself from the Bridge but found herself at Michael’s quarters. Hovering with uncertainty and ignoring the gaze of the security personnel as they stood to attention. But this visit was necessary; Michael would need to know the turn of events and they’d have to deal with her a little longer.

As the doors opened, Philippa blinked as she saw Sarek sitting and looking to have been talking with the Terran. But the woman herself; her demeanour shifting as soon as the doors opened, pressing down a smooth and cool expression on her face though a hint of curiosity hung in the brown depth of her eyes.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Ambassador.” Philippa started first. “Starbase One had fallen. We’re heading back to Pavho. Admiral Cornwell may need your…council on the matter.”

Sarek nodded once, expression as passive as usual but he understood. He too would no doubt need to organise the new plan now with their losses as she had done already.  

Her eyes followed him as he stood briskly and headed to the doors, watching as they opened and locked after him and leaving a heavy silence hanging in the air.

Her heart fluttered a little now she was alone again with her. But Philippa kept her expression crafted as she stepped further in to face her.

“So, Captain.” Michael started, breaking the ice this time. “The Vulcan has…informed me that I’d have to…take over your Burnham’s place in this world.”

Her eyebrow perked a little at the statement. Which felt odd; what was the woman getting at? She’d know she already knew. “Yes, I’ve also been informed.”

“I just…have a few questions concerning her.”

Philippa felt her jaw clench. Not too surprised, even if Michael had displayed distaste in reading about her counterpart. Although Sarek had no doubt answered most she had given he had raised her but… she was no doubt more aware of her connection with her Michael. “Go on.”

“I’ve been reading up on the event leading up to her death. Like the medical report on the day she died. Exposure to High levels of radiation… why was she put back onto the bridge after she was treated?”

Philippa’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “She was my first officer and she’d not have it any other way.”

“You should know the medical procedures of an injuries such of radiation exposure would require the officer to remain off duty for 24 hours after treatment to balance the psychological aspects of both event and treatment.”

Her hands tightened up, the implications now painted red and clear to what this Michael was getting at. It seemed more than just curiosity about her doppelganger. It was to engage a reaction. Diving more to the blame… the underlying truth she hadn’t seen… but no. Philippa hadn’t touched that gate for a reason. She didn’t need the guilt to plague her again. She could see ahead of what she was getting at.

“What is your point?” Her tone dropping in warmth to a cool one but she didn’t take her eyes off her, her eyes narrowing further and her posture stiffening

Michael’s lip curled a fraction before she stood up, looking at her PADD. “Curiosity, Captain. I have after all answered the questions asked about my world. It seems fair to inquire back, does it not?”

“Debatable...”

The Terran woman gave a shrug. “Still, it’s just that…Starfleet blame onto your Michael seemed to be...unjustified. The question should be asked, _is Michael_ the one _really_ to blame? For mutiny against you, Captain, to start with?” Her eyebrow rose indignantly, “Seem hardly fair to blame the victim when she’s _ill_ and then dealing with the sudden appearance of Klingons; the _source_ of her child-hood trauma. Another thing that should have also pulled her away from the bridge. Personal Bias.” She sighed heavily, “Must have been confusing for her… memories of trauma from her childhood with the need to protect her crew, mixed up with irrational paranoia side effects from the after effects… Can’t say I blame her for trying to make the only logical course of action that was presented to her. By Sarek, might I add?”

“ _Stop_ talking.” This demand was not shouted, but Philippa knew how hard it came out; an angry hiss that was effective but didn’t remove the smirk. She could feel the heat of anger within her stomach at everything this copy was saying. That the blame was on _her_ ; the dominoes she hadn’t considered were out and in sight. Right now, she didn’t need that. “Now listen very carefully, Burnham. I am _not_ here to listen to what your assessments of our Michael is, nor your opinion on my actions or _anything_. You have questions, _fine_ but that is only what I’ll allow. Do you understand?”

The look steadily vanished from Michael’s face, her lips pursing though her eyes remained calculating. “Yes, Captain.” Her tone back to when they have first met and said nothing more. Eyes still twinkling with infuriating curiosity.

Philippa stared at her nonetheless though she could feel the flutter of her heart in her chest still fast. She broke the gaze after a minute, stepping away and shook her head. Her jaw clenched “Once we’ve dealt with the Klingons, Starfleet command will be waiting for you to be trained in Starfleet for your adjustment to this world. I assume Ambassador Sarek has already informed you.”

“He has.”

“Good. Details are still being refined for this mission but is there any more than you could provide us on our mission to Quo’nos? As you said, your mother destroyed the planet. Was it the same method?” A safe topic. Straight to Business. Nothing personal.

“Yes. I read the reports of the mission after it was conducted.”

Philippa nodded. Though she could see this information would no doubt prove useful… though… she doubted Cornwell could agree to such an idea.

“Explain.”

Michael shifted, folding her arms. “There’s a cave system on the planet that leads to a direct passage to the volcano systems. I will need to see the maps on this version to try and pin point the possible locations of planting it.”

“But?” There was that underling tone.

“I would be ideal if I got involved. Win this war for you. But if you want my help, I want something in return?”

Philippa almost growled in the frustration. “Then you can discuss them with Admiral Cornwell.” She knew better than to go behind her back this time.

“Then I have nothing more to say on the matter, Captain.” She turned her back and headed away towards the bed. “

 

* * *

 

Her heart thudded in her chest as she paced. Vaguely aware of Sarek’s gaze following her movements but standing or sitting still was obviously not happening… not now. Certainly not with the Klingons closing in on Earth. The heart and Soul of the Federation. If the Earth was gone, then there was a huge hole; allied bonds would fracture and leave all their home world vulnerable when the federation fell apart….. She couldn’t allow that. Couldn’t allow the Klingon home world to continue if the Klingons took destroyed Earth. There would be too higher advantage the Klingons had; to lead their own warfare to everyone else; to hunt down the pockets of humans to ensure extinction.

Brutal attacks were worse enough, thy had the power to trigger extinction level events; the Earth defences weren’t strong enough and they still had a poor sense of tracking the Klingon ships that were cloaked; as much as they had gathered from Pavho, rigging it to help was proving harder than planned but there was some sensor improvements from other ships but it was hardly enough for a good impact. Hardly enough to fend off an attack….

They had to get to Quo’nos first…

“Admiral.” Sarek’s voice broke through her concentration, her eyes flickering to the Vulcan as he sat patiently. “You’re muttering.”

Her jaw snapped shut tightly, inhaling heavily but forced herself to stop. She wasn’t over thinking, no… but she had to keep the fact open. “Any word from Starfleet command?” She asked tightly.

“Not as of yet. It’s highly unlikely they’d receive anything given the Klingon have taken out our relays to limit our communication of the closing systems.”

“Damn it…” Air hissed passed her lips in frustration, her stomach tightening; they had no way to pass the information along… No one to call for back up and now they were alone. But they had a plan so they still had a chance; they just had to work out the kinks and _survive_. Odds were far in their favour…

The door to the room opened suddenly. Cornwell flinched a little but she relaxed as she released who it was though started back in her pacing.

“Admiral, Ambassador. Captain Burnham is… wanting a deal if you want her help. She knows…or at least _implied_ that she knows where we need to go to plane the bomb.”  Georgiou spoke up, entering swiftly and seated herself beside Sarek, her hands on her knees. “I didn’t commit to anything.”

Cornwell nodded. A mild relief, if any, that Georgiou wasn’t allowing her feelings to get in the way this time. “How soon can we get to Quo’nos?”

“Stamets has given me an estimation on the drive. A few more hours at most. We should be able to jump them.”

“Good.” But in dangerous territory, a few hours was life or limb. “Cloaking detection.”

“We’ve linked it up to our drive but again, not yet operational.”

“And the bomb?”

“I’ve assigned a small team with it. They’re currently building a shell for it to be carried on a drone and to keep it safe at high temperatures…unless hit with lava or detonated remotely.”

Her pacing slowed to a stop again. Small and minor things but it was good work for now. They still had a few hours.

“Ambassador Sarek, Captain Burnham has been more forthcoming with you. I trust that you can negotiate her demands? We need that intel.” Cornwell spoke up. Perhaps simply she didn’t seem to know his counter-part but she was more open with him than either herself or Georgiou.

“I believe so.”

“Then do what you can and you, Philippa, keep me updated.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, well i feel we're getting closer to the end. It may be a while longer beofre I get to the next chap bc I'm taking part of NaNoWriMo this year again. 
> 
> Also I have my vampire AU for Micheal if you want to read that. 
> 
> anyway, please drop some love and comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!


	10. Commander...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I now it's been a while since i last posted on this chap and.... well I;ve decided to make it longer to fulfil the few plot holes i accidentally left and well... it's necessary. Plus Michael, i felt needed more development and there's a lot to do with them lol

Michael stared at her reflection.

She did not like it.

The Vulcan had been very specific and they weren’t for handing over her terran gear if she was to pose as his Michael Burnham. Starfleet’s gear was…not nearly as protective as it should be. Looking at her reflection now, it was just… basic. Blue main uniform with gold trim—the studs of those in shapes of the insignia seemed a tad of an overkill—and boots. No armour, nothing that would offer much protection.

She knew this world was soft … liable to injury seemed to say a lot. People would get thrown around, shrapnel even could do a lot of damage. She felt…exposed. Unsafe. Wrong to be planning such a high-risk mission when they hadn’t even got firmer protective jackets. Like the federation officers was begging to get killed.

Her fingers picked up the small metallic badge from the side. It was light gold and bore pips of a Commander-level position. It bothered her she was being ‘demoted’ but she didn’t expect she could retain her former rank in this world but…. It would have been nice. But she supposed the dynamic of her leadership would not go down well with a crew of this worlds.

After a moment, the Terran put it onto place on her chest, feeling its light weight and only felt like she was in a costume. She felt silly.

“Computer, bring up projection of Commander Michael Burnham.” She ordered swiftly.

After a moment of nothing, a sudden figure of someone that was almost familiar hung in front of her. It hadn’t been the first time she had been a picture of her counterpart but it did make her a little uneasy. Like looking into an unwanted reflection and seeing… a weaker version of herself but _this_ allowed her to study; to perfect her cover was she going to use now.

Looking in her reflection; she could see they were almost physically identical. Apart from the Vulcan-straight cut this Burnham had and the light look in her eyes and the curl of her lips. But, Michael didn’t see much point in getting her hair exactly like this Michael. After all, “spending time on a prison ship”, hair was likely to return to its normal tight curls and get longer. A reasonable ‘trim’ would get it organised for those who over-thought her story.

Inhaling deeply, Michael straightened her back, folding her arms behind her and relaxed her face, trying to copy the smile this woman had. Putting up the front, as it were before she let it drop with a heavy exhale.

Behind her, the doors opened though Michael was unsurprised it was once again the Admiral. Alone.

“I see you’re getting into character.” Cornwell remarked coolly, eyes taking in her appearance. “Have you read your cover file?”

Michael nodded softly. “After my supposed death at the hands of T’Kuvma, I was accidently left behind. But, I survived and was patched up and transferred to a prison ship a few months later but it was only recently, under a top-secret rescue that I was recovered and brought here to aid in bringing down the Klingons.” She recited. Not too creative but it was believable. She had scars that her counterpart didn’t. Again, plenty to indicate any abuse suffered at the hands of her Klingon captors. Something that could work with her difference of attitude.

Wars changes hearts.

Now, to the federation. The Michael Burnham they knew (while literally) died on that ship, and now she was ‘back’. Michael knew though… some would not be so welcoming but she didn’t care. Those that _did_ , she did have to worry about.

Ones that wanted to ‘rekindle’ relationships or talk about experiences. Sarek had given her warning about his wife, Amanda. Though she knew her counterpart briefly, before her dear cousin slit her throat. She did like her but she wasn’t prepared for the woman to consider her a _daughter_. She didn’t need that right now, certainly nothing from their son either—it was to some relief that her prime counter-part had a poor relationship with him. Enough that they hadn’t talked in years. Something she was glad to maintain. She did not care for Spock.

But she was needed. She had supplied enough information to be considered helpful. She knew the insides and outs fro Klingon warfare and how to adapt for battle. Right now, she had an idea… but she needed to wait until she had the position and cover ready to expose it.

“I’m surprised you’ve got me dressed so soon.”

“You’re necessary to our success, Burnham.”

Michael chuckled softly. “Cancel mirror and projection.” In front of her, the images flickered away, turning to face the Admiral. “And yet, I feel there’s things you’re missing.”

The expression on the woman’s face didn’t change so Michael took that as a yes.

“We’re still waiting on the necessary data but nothing we can’t get.” The admiral’s voice held more confidence than her expression which did little faith. The woman had ideologies. Same as her counterpart; it was why the other Cornwell had been so _easy_ to kill.

“But there’s still the fact Klingons are pushing hard and… are willing to do a lot to win.” Michael spoke, exhaling. “Your federation isn’t winning because they’re not taking the war _to_ the Klingons. I’ve read all the reports on my counterpart, this world and… there’s just no follow through. She should have fired first.”

“Starfleet has it principles. This is not a _terran_ War.”

“What good are they when you’re all dead?” That was how it was going. She could calculate that with Star base One down, the Klingons were going to _their_ end game. Extinction level event. So they needed to get a head of them. But that didn’t mean doing it the Starfleet way. “Look, Admiral. Some things aren’t to be fought cleanly. I know a lot more about Klingon Warfare and ships in comparison to the federation’s databanks. You have no idea _what_ they were willing to do to bring down my mother’s empire.” Michael spoke firmly, “from lighting up colony planets to suicide missions. Going as far as cutting up their own kind and sticking them in human bodies of prisoners they captured... have you lot even ran a check on any of your POWs?”

Admiral Cornwell moved, a frown on her face though she slowly began to pace a little but not out of agitation, contempt perhaps. “Your Klingons are, from what I hear, are different to ours, They’re without a home world and will do drastic action.”

“No be so Naïve, Admiral. Where would the harm be in checking?” Michael answered softly back, straightening out her uniform again, her fingers twisted the badge on her chest again. “Believe it or not, I worked alongside Klingons after I went underground to take out my cousin after my mother’s fall. I know them. Personally. But, for your….perspective on their savagery in war, Admiral, didn’t they _eat_ the other Burnham?”

That stopped the woman for a second, the vivid reminder of what the Klingons were capable of when pushed. Why stop at eating a human corpse? Michael knew that was rare, even for a Klingon unless pushed to it. No other food sources and revenge were the most likely reason why her other self was stripped to bones. Not pleasant fate for anyone of her backstory and ordeal… but it was fact.

Klingons were brutal.

“This...is _not_ a terran War, Burnham.” The admiral’s voice was stiff, her shoulders straightening up. “You don’t know these Klingons and they, like everyone else, believe you’re dead.”

Michael’s lip curled a fraction. Amused. Maybe she’d get to meet the ones that killed her counterpart? She could imagine the looks on their faces… especially on those that had tasted her flesh and blood in glee; she’d be a _ghost_.   Michael shook those thoughts aside; now was _not_ the time for that.

“Maybe not, but I’d advise you to check and see… just in case. I’d hate to have to die again because the federation let one slip.” She gave the admiral a pointed look and took a deep breath. “Now, I believe I’ve read all that I’ve can. I know my story and you know what you need to from me. I think it’s time I…get acquainted with the rest of the ship and crew.”

Admiral Cornwell eyed her for a longer moment then nodded. “About time. But… as your superior, I’ll order you now to not mention anything about your counterpart or her fate to Georgiou. At all. Even with your cover.”

Michael nodded. “Okay.”

Admiral Cornwell nodded then inclined her head towards the door “Follow me.”

 

Michael complied though she had noticed Commander Landry shadow them. Not that it surprised her in the slightest. At lease someone here was smart enough to be paranoid. Though as they walked, she watched the few faces of the crew they passed. Eyes widened, some stopped and stared and one with a tray walked into another.

The path was unfamiliar to a degree, but Michael was pleased that it was like the ISS Discovery. She had only been on that ship once; to why _this_ was just as unfamiliar. Though her eyes fell to Ambassador Sarek who stood waiting by the turbolift.

“Admiral.” Sarek greeted. “The bridge crew are waiting for new orders. We’ve arrived at Pavho and are settled in orbit around the planet.”

Cornwell nodded with a pleased smile. “Good. Wait here for thirty seconds while I debrief the crew. Burnham, you’ll take the science station. You’ll be, for now, _acting_ first officer. Make no mistake, Commander Saru though will take his orders from Georgiou.”

“Of course, Admiral.”

Michael watched the woman as she entered the turbolift and the doors closed after her, leaving the Terran standing with the Vulcan but she waited in silence before pressing the button after the 25th second mark. Both Landry and Sarek following her in but she stayed at the front….

Feeling the sense of anticipation as the lift rose, she straightened herself up ready, masking her emotions ready….

Then the doors opened.

* * *

Philippa sat as she watched Admiral Cornwell talk but her stomach churned more. She knew The admiral has set up something while she had been busy… but it had to be logical if Sarek was involved.

“…this ship is currently the only one that’s capable of jumps across the galaxy. Lieutenant Stamets has confirmed the spore drive is active and primed since the lass of the Glenn. Any damage done has been fixed but this war is long from finished. Starfleet command has… ordered us to take further action against the Klingons while the rest retreat to defend Earth. To which… leaves us with a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. But….” Cornwell straightened up, “In a recent, top-secure raid on a Klingon prison ship, we were able to recover the one woman who can help us turn the tides against the Klingons. Long assumed dead….Commander Michael Burnham.”

As if on cue, the turbolift doors opened and Philippa felt her insides turn cold as the woman in question stepped out. Dressed like Michael… her hair up in natural tight curls and a badge that glittered in the light…. But her eyes were still strangers to those who knew her origins. Cold to those who didn’t. All around her, she heard soft gasps…

Detmer behind seemed to immediately jump to her feet; eyes wide.

Michael’s eyes washed around the room, settling onto her. Philippa stood, her back straight though Michael smiled, almost as soft as her Michael’s had been.

“Captain.” She greeted. “It’s been a long time.”

Philippa stared at her, her jaw clenching but she felt the admiral’s stare linger; the pressure that lay on her shoulders that she had to maintain the woman’s cover.

“Indeed.” Her tone stiffer than she had intended

“Commander Burnham was transported here by my personal retinue and has agreed to help. With her time with the Klingons it has made her a…somewhat expert on the subject. I believe with her acquired knowledge, we can defeat the Klingons and prevent the fall of our Federation and of Earth.” Admiral Cornwall continued, before she looked to the Terran. “You’ve been reinstated as first officer for the time being, Commander. Once your mission is complete, Captain Georgiou will…decided if it’s to be maintained after.”

“Of course, Admiral.” Michael replied with a sharp nod. “I wouldn’t expect anything less given the circumstances.”

Philippa held the woman’s look before glancing to Saru. It was to some relief to see his….distrain on this. That this Michael was taking his rank and authority…. A woman that wasn’t even the real one. But, Philippa could see in Detmer’s face; the relief even to see her alive. It almost made her heart ache that it was all a lie.

“I really hope, Captain,” Michael stepped forwards, her expression soft and sincere. “I really hope that our history since the binaries won’t affect our working together. I’ve… had a lot of time to dwell on it. I am so sorry for what I did and…the aftermath that followed. We’ve all suffered.”

For a second, Philippa felt swayed in by the woman’s words. The way she spoke, the way her expression was crafted… it felt so… _real_. So captivating. It was like an illusion she had always wanted to see, to experience again. To forgive and move on.

But then… Philippa’s mind drifted to the memory; Michael lying on the floor, the blade in her chest with a long, empty gaze with blood pooling under her. Her Michael was a dead Michael. It hurt to see this one act like her. _Being_ her.

“Yes. We do.” Philippa breathed out, inhaling deeply. “Take your station, _Commander_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not the longest but I feel the next ones will be longer to make up for it lol :) I kept you all waiting long enough.
> 
> There will be more interaction with Michael and the crew, but I felt it was time for her to start integrating into the crew first. 
> 
> Please drop from love and your comments, I'd love to hear your thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't a one shot and there'll be a couple more chaps but it won't be too long of a fic but I thought of this last night so... why not.  
> I love angst!!
> 
> Please drop some love and comments... 
> 
> Not sure if i want to keep the mother/daughter relationship or have it a romantic ship so i want your thoughts on that too...


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